100 Words
by sleepyheadfan20
Summary: These are little Ichabbie blurbs between 100-195 words. They do tend to go over that. Lol If you like "Simply Ichabbie," then I hope you like these, too. Feel free to send me any requests. Thank you for reading and reviewing if you decide to. :) Some chapters are rated M.
1. Missed

So, I thought it would be a good idea to write little Ichabbie blurbs. Sometimes, I may not feel like writing a full-fledged short story or have time to, but I still want to write something. I always get that feeling and urge to do it. Lol I want to. Therefore, I hope you guys will like this. Some of these may actually become stories, but these will be really short and brief. Hopefully, they hit you in the gut and make you feel all kinds of things. Lol I hope you like them. Thank you for reading. :) Feel free to give me some ideas. :)

* * *

Abbie stood outside the immigration detention center. She was pissed that Crane hadn't spoken to her in nine months. He left without a word. They always talked. She knew it was because he lost Katrina and Henry, but he still should've called her. He could've at least left her a letter or something. Anything. She took a deep breath, pulled her blazer around her chest. Was she ready for this? She bit her lip and put a piece of hair behind her hair. Abbie walked inside.

When she was in the visitor section, she searched for him. When their eyes met, everything she missed about him coated her: his smirk, his blue eyes, his beard, his rants, his slender fingers flipping pages of every book in the archives. She tried to keep busy. Quantico was a goal of hers, but also a distraction from him. Her breathing wasn't the same anymore. She barely felt it. He looked ashamed and relieved. Smiling, she looked away, shook her head. She couldn't deny it anymore.

 _Damn it, Crane_.


	2. Ice Cream

So, this clearly isn't 100-195 words. Lol. It's 312. :/ I got carried away. It's hard to condense this one, but the more the merrier. Enjoy. More to come. Feel free to send me requests. :)

* * *

Abbie walked into the kitchen to fix a bowl of vanilla ice cream for herself. She thought Crane would wait outside on the porch, but she heard his footsteps and the clink of his Scotch glass when he placed it in the sink. It was his turn to wash the dishes.

"I was coming back. You want some?" she said as she put two scoops in a small glass bowl. She closed the ice cream container.

"No, but thank you, Leftenant. It is just...Your confession about your father was a brave one. I'm glad you found the courage to share it with me."

Abbie put the dessert in the freezer. "You provided the space for me to do it, Crane. Is that all?"

"It seemed difficult for you, and I wanted to comfort you."

He put his hands behind his back.

Abbie ate some of her ice cream and lowered her eyebrows. "You did. You listened and encouraged me."

He sighed. "Not enough, Abbie. I wanted to ask..."

"Spit it out, Crane."

"I wanted to hold you."

He stared at her ice cream. Abbie put her spoon down and stepped in front of him. He still didn't look at her.

"Crane, it's okay."

He looked at her now. "You wouldn't be opposed?"

She shook her head. He hesitated at first, but he finally touched her waist. She put her hands on his arms. They stared at each other; then Abbie nodded her head. He pulled her until he felt the light press of her chest on his, and she laid her head on his coat lapel. As she played with the creases in his coat sleeve; he placed his hand through her curls. She closed her eyes, inhaled while he exhaled. His eyes closed, too.

"Thank you, Ichabod."

"I am always right here, Abbie."

She didn't care if her ice cream melted.


	3. A Charlie Brown Christmas

For ichabbienerd2018 on Tumblr. Here is Ichabbie watching t.v. I thought this would be between 100-195 words, but once I started I knew it would be impossible. Lol Anyway, thanks for the request. I hope you like this and that you'll never look at "A Charlie Brown Christmas" the same again. lol Let me know. :)

* * *

"It's called 'Netflix,' Crane. You can pick from lots of movies and t.v shows. They may even have something on here about the Founding Fathers," Abbie said.

She and Crane sat down on the sofa. Abbie placed the bowl of kettle corn on the table and put her toes in the slit of the cushions.

"Don't pick anything boring." She gave him the remote control.

"It seems you don't trust my judgement."

"Not when it comes to movies." She took a handful of popcorn. "Pick something."

He scrolled through the films with his mouth open. "I'm astounded at the number of films on here. How does one even begin to—"

"Crane, a movie." She at some more popcorn.

"Right."

He finally settled on "A Charlie Brown Christmas."

Abbie shook her head. "Of course, Crane. Of course. It's October."

"Don't judge me, Leftenant. They're rather cute characters, and I've taken a liking to cartoons."

Abbie shook her head again and smiled at him. She passed him the bowl of popcorn.

As the movie began, she rubbed her feet together, then put the balls off her feet on the floor.

"Is something the matter?" Crane said as he chewed.

"My feet hurt. Rough day at work." She rubbed her heels as she watched the movie.

Crane put the popcorn back on the table. He took off his coat and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. He removed her hands and carefully grabbed her feet. He placed them in his lap.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"I would like to give you a foot massage. Please allow me, Leftenant."

Abbie nodded her head. She wouldn't argue; she really needed it. She relaxed against the arm of the sofa and closed her eyes while Crane's fingers soothed the sore spots and aches. She sighed.

Crane glanced at her, gave her a little smile. He was glad he could do this for her. He heard Abbie sigh again when his fingers kneaded the balls of her feet. He wanted to stare at her. He wanted to enjoy the slight tilt of her neck and the small moans and exhales she released from her belly. But he didn't; he couldn't twist this moment into what it wasn't, what he wanted it to be. Instead, he stared at his hands and focused on Charlie Brown's voice.


	4. Porch Swing

Here is a blurb I posted on Tumblr after the episode tonight. Prepare for your feels to be attacked. Lol Hope you like it. :)

"I need some air," she said as she sat his soup on a tray in front of him. He was sitting up, waiting to eat.

"I can come with you." He tried to stand up, but winced and leaned back against the sofa.

"You can't go anywhere, Crane. Eat. I'll be on the porch swing."

He nodded his head. "If you need me..."

Abbie gave him a small smile and nodded her head anyway, even though she knew he couldn't do anything if she was in danger.

When she stepped outside, she sat on the porch swing, in the same place Crane sat. She took a deep breathe, then another, and another until she couldn't keep it in anymore. The tears came. So did the pain in her throat, the shortened breaths, the running snot. She let it out. She stopped when the door opened, wiped her face.

"Crane? What are you doing? Go back inside."

He winced and his eyes shut as he walked towards her. She helped him sit down. He breathed hard and sat up as straight as he could. He slowly put his arm around her, pulled her towards him.

Abbie didn't move; she just stared at him. She shook her head, touched his beard with both her hands, then his chest, his hand that wasn't around her. The tears reappeared. Her forehead fell into the crook of his neck. His skin was warm.

"I know, Abbie. I know." He wrapped his other arm around her, and she scooted closer toward him. "Give me all your sorrow. I'm here."

He didn't say anything else. Neither did she. He held her and listened to her cry while the porch swing creaked as he rocked it with his feet.


	5. Cinnamon Toast Crunch

Nothing special, but something I felt like writing. It was cute. This is more than a 100 words, too. This is hard. I'll get better. Lol They are so married.

* * *

Abbie walked into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes. She opened the fridge to get the milk, but it wasn't in there, nor was the juice. She closed it and checked the counter. Both of the items were there, along with a bowl with a spoon in it, the box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch, a coffee mug, and a small glass cup. There was also a note. She didn't take this stuff out last night. Jenny wasn't here; Abbie doesn't sleep walk. The only other person who could have done this was Crane. She smiled, poured her cereal in a bowl. When she reached for the milk, it was still cold. She touched the juice, too. It was the same. He must've woken up about five minutes before her or something. He's been here for a few weeks now. He was probably used to her early schedule.

After she fixed her cereal, juice, and started the coffee maker, she read the note.

 _Since my horrific attempts at preparing you a fit dinner didn't go as planned, I thought it was rather safer for me to give you a head start on your breakfast, Leftenant. I hope this finds you well. Have a great day at work. I will see you when you return home._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Ichabod Crane_

 _P.S. I snuck a bowl of your Cinnamon Toast Crunch. Those crunchy little squares are rather delicious, especially with more sugar._

Abbie's smile grew bigger, and she searched through the drawers for a piece of paper and pen.

 _Thank you for my breakfast. I really appreciate it. It was thoughtful. I'll see you later._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Abbie_

 _P.S. Eat anymore of my cereal, and you will regret it. And no extra sugar. Heard of diabetes? I may have to hide that from you._

She removed Crane's note and replaced it with hers. She folded his note, then put it in her robe. She finished her breakfast. Abbie smiled when she felt the letter shuffle in her robe pocket as she walked to her room to get dressed.


	6. Butterfly Ribbons and Abbie's Song

For leftenantmills0818 on Tumblr. I hope you thoroughly enjoy this. I had fun writing it. :) This is more than a blurb. It's more like a short story, but it doesn't matter. It's a feels fest. You're welcome. :) This idea hit me while I was doing my twist out. There is fanart of the first part I wrote about I think, but I'll have to find it. Lol This song isn't mine. It's by Alexz Johnson and called "I Don't Know If I Should Stay." You should listen to it when you read this. It's so beautiful and reminds me of Ichabbie. :)

* * *

Miracle sat between her father's legs on a stool. He parted her hair in two sections. He combed through the first section, then the other.

She titled her head back. "Daddy, can you sing me a song?"

"What would you like me to sing, my Miracle?"

"The song you sing for mommy."

Crane smiled at her. He kissed her forehead. "As you wish, my sweet."

She titled her head forward.

"Oh, before I forget, you have to select two bows, my darling."

Crane picked up the square container of hair clips, scrunchies, hair bows, ribbons, hair bands, and rubber bands. He lifted it above Miracle's head and placed it in her outstretched hands. She dug through it.

"I can't find anything. You pick two bows, daddy." She lifted the container above her head.

Crane grabbed it from her, searched through it until he found two teal ribbons with purple butterflies on them. He handed them to Miracle and put the container next to him on the bed.

"Will those do?"

She shrugged and glanced at them, put them in her lap. "Yes."

She didn't really care for bows and ribbons anymore, but sometimes she wore them if she was in the mood. Crane guessed she didn't want to look like Miss Jenny today. Two weeks ago, she told him Auntie Jenny doesn't wear hair bows, so she stopped wearing them.

"Can you sing to me now?"

He chuckled at her and started to braid one section of her hair. "As you wish. 'Where's my will?/Can I find a way?/ The earth is wild/And I can't sit still/A familiar sound/A familiar voice.'"

Miracle hummed with him. She liked this song, always requested it unless it was a special day, like a holiday or a birthday. Crane always sung it for her. He never objected it. Sometimes Miracle would get out of bed for something to drink, and she would catch them dancing in the dim living room. There was no music, only Crane singing this song to Abbie with her head on his chest. Both their eyes were closed, but opened when they heard Miracle giggle.

He switched between humming and singing as he plaited a French braid in the first section of her hair. He liked doing her hair. He wanted to do it after he saw how Abbie interacted with their daughter. Miracle would lay her head on her mother's knee, and Abbie would tell her a story about their Apocalypse days. Miracle would fall asleep with a smile on her face.

"You and daddy are so brave," she always said.

Abbie kissed the side of her head and finished her hair. When she was done, she wouldn't wake Miracle for five minutes. She would stare, smile at their daughter, and brush flyways from her hair. She would kiss the side of her head again, then tickle her awake.

Crane wanted moments like that with his daughter, too, so he and Abbie would alternate. Today was his turn. Abbie fixed them breakfast while he did Miracle's hair and vice versa.

He finished the first braid and reached his hand out. Miracle handed him both ribbons. He spread them across his thigh. He took one of them, tied it at the end of her braid, then placed the braid over her left shoulder. He started the other while he continued to the sing. Miracle kept humming with him.

"'A thousand stars/ You will have my word/I'm bright enough/To fill these cracks.'" He hummed some more of the song. He was half-way done with the second braid.

Miracle sung the rest of the song with him. "'I ran to you like water/I threw my body in/And I'll stand up on the ocean/Just to show you that I am strong/Strong/But what if I am wrong?'"

"'A familiar look/A familiar smile/Makes it so hard/To make a choice/I don't know if I should stay/Away.'" Crane tied the last ribbon at the end of her braid. "You are all done, my little Treasure."

Crane put the comb in her hair box as Miracle stood up and turned to her dad. "How do I look?"

Crane put his hand on her cheek; her small hand covered his. "You look exquisite. You look just like your mother." He kissed her forehead.

She took his hand and led him to the kitchen. Abbie smiled at them when she saw them. She put bowls of Cinnamon Toast Crunch on the table for all of them.

"Hey. You all done?" She walked towards her daughter and bent down in front of her.

Miracle nodded. "How do I look, mommy?"

Abbie kissed her cheek. "Like my gorgeous butterfly. You hungry?"

She nodded and took Abbie's hand. She helped Miracle sit in the chair, pushed her up to the table. She helped pour her milk in her bowl.

Crane stared at them and smiled as he sat down at the table in front of his cereal. Abbie glanced at him; she sat down, too, intertwined their fingers. She poured milk in both their bowls.

"What?" she said.

"I love you and the beautiful daughter you gave me."

She smiled at him, kissed his lips a few times.

"Our cereal will get soggy and Miracle," Crane said.

Miracle giggled. They looked at her, smiling.

"I don't think she minds, Crane."

"Nope. You and daddy love each other."

They glanced at each other.

"We do," Abbie said.

Crane grabbed a spoonful of cereal out of her bowl. Abbie took it from him.

"You have your own Cinnamon Toast Crunch. Hands off."

"Yours is so much better."

Abbie shook her head. She fed him a little bit of her cereal anyway.

"Happy?"

"Indeed." Crane took his spoon and fed her.

"Me, too," Miracle said.

They both took turns feeding her and themselves and stole cereal from the other's bowls; they took turns singing Abbie's song.


	7. Candles

Just a little bit of feels for you before bed. :) This really is a blurb this time. Lol

* * *

Abbie and Crane sat at the wooden table in the archives. Books were in front of them and spread across the table. Crane took a sip of his tea while he skimmed a page with his finger. Abbie underlined and circled something. She sighed; Crane stared at her. With closed eyes, she stretched her arms, arched her back, and then titled her head. Left, right, front, back. He saw her collar bone, the small outpouring of her breasts. Crane's mouth opened. He didn't know what breathing was. The candles squirmed around her. She was beautiful./p


	8. Queen

I had to do it. Inspired by that pic of Abbie in her Beyoncé costume. :) I'm such trash for this. Lol Enjoy. :) Happy Sleepy Hollow/Ichabbie likesleepybunnies and nickey79 on Tumblr and QTFics for the request this morning.

* * *

Crane waited downstairs for Abbie. They were going to a bowling Halloween party. It wasn't for anything regarding their work as Witnesses. They were going for fun, taking a break. They were ten minutes late.

"Miss Mills, are you prepared? We don't want to miss the festivities," Crane said.

"I'm almost done," she said from the bathroom.

He wondered what took her so long. He only took twenty minutes to get ready. It's took Abbie forty-five. He played with his fingernail. What could she possibly be wearing?

"You ready?" Abbie said as he heard her come downstairs.

When he glanced at her, he forgot about his fingernail, about why they were late. He saw Abbie, dressed in shorts that exposed her thighs. Brown curls hung over her shoulders while her breasts poked out of a red plaid top. She wore a necklace that said "Queen."

"Are you ready?" She stood on the last step, waiting for him.

He couldn't say anything. Nothing. His fingers twitched, then he wondered. He wondered what her thighs would feel like under his fingers, wondered what her breasts would taste like on his tongue. He wondered if she would sigh and giggle and moan if he made love to her like the queen she was. He would do whatever she commanded.

"You look indescribable."

She smiled at him and stepped pass him off the step.

"Thanks, Crane. Your costume is awesome, too."

As she grabbed her coat and headed for the door, Crane wondered again as he stared at her protruding butt and her curved back. Oh, how he wondered.


	9. The Maze

Just a little something for you, uneang1. It's nothing much, but this is a little present for you. I think you told me your birthday is Saturday. Hope you like it. Happy early birthday and happy Halloween. :) Also, thanks for ProfR for the idea you mentioned to me. It's in here. :)

* * *

Abbie couldn't believe she was doing this, but Jenny dared her to do it. She didn't want to. However, she wouldn't be a coward and pass up a dare. So, she stood outside the haunted maze with Crane. Jenny and Joe already entered. If she had to go through this maze, Crane had to go with her.

"Leftenant, why must I accompany you in this haunted maze?"

"For reasons, Crane." she stepped closer to him as she heard someone scream.

"Are you frightened, Miss Mills?"

She distanced herself from Crane. "No. I don't like haunted houses, but I'm not that scared. Unlike at Fredrick's Manor and the ones we fight everyday, these demons aren't real. What do I have to be afraid of?"

Another scream came from inside the maze and some kind of roaring sound; Abbie jumped. She took a deep breathe. She could do this. It only lasted thirty minutes, if you didn't get lost.

Crane turned her to him by her shoulders. "You don't have to be so brave, Abbie."

"I'm not that scared. Are you scared?"

He nodded his head. "I terrified. These creatures aren't real, but special effects, costumes, and makeup can make one's fears come to life and think otherwise."

"I'll be fine. I'll be afraid, but I'll be fine. I've fought monster before. No biggie."

Crane gave her small smile. He stepped closer to her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. She was against his chest. Her arms wrapped around his waist.

"Why are you hugging me?"

"We hug it out, remember? You need it."

She squeezed him tighter. He kissed the top of her. After they let each other go, they stood in front of the entrance. They heard more screams, demonic noises. There was even banging, clashing, slamming, skittering. Abbie closed her eyes.

He put his forehead on her temple. "I'm right here, Grace."

His breathe was soft; her eyes went wide. He's only ever called her Grace when he used her full name. Never this. He removed his forehead, entwined their fingers. They stared at each other, then faced forward. As they walked into the maze, Abbie thought about the way his breathe coated her skin, how her name swept off his lips and flitted into her ear.


	10. Omelets and Orange Juice

This is from the 5 minute writing challenge I was tagged in on Tumblr. Thank for the tag sneetchstar. :) This is an extended version of that little blurb. Not by much though. Enjoy. :)

* * *

Abbie watched him as she poured her juice. Crane cut onions, mushrooms, and green peppers on a chopping board for their omelets. She liked watching him cook; he always hummed when he did.

There was a bowl beside him, and he poured the veggies in it. The skillet heated. Crane scooped the vegetables in his hands. They feel through his long fingers. He did it again, mixing, scooping. He picked up the bowl and shook it. Abbie stared at his hands. She wondered what else they could do. She avoided her eyes, smirked, and sipped her juice.


	11. Leaves

A blurb I wrote as a response to a prompt request on Tumblr. I thought I'd try it. It was about the "Fondle in the Forest" drink. Lol :)

* * *

Abbie and Crane searched through the forest for the demon. They captured it, but it escaped and now, they tried to find it again. A red leaf fell on Abbie's jacket. She thought about what Crane said at the bar about the drink. He said "Sex on the Beach" was also called "Fondle in the Forest" in his time. That was a funny name to her. Odd. Yet, as she picked the leaf off her shoulder and twisted it by its stem, she wanted to know how these same leaves would feel on her skin if Crane kissed her under a tree. What would the tree bark feel like against her back if Crane kissed her neck? Would the leaves crunch and shift if they weaved their fingers and twisted together? What would it really be like to "fondle in the forest?"

"Leftenant, are you alright?" Crane said.

Abbie breathed, then said, "I'm fine. Let's finish this."

She dropped the leaf.


	12. The Call

A happy blurb I wrote before the show aired tonight. It was totally awesome. :) Just think of this as how Crane's date really went. And Crane is so petty at the end of this fic. Lol I hope you catch what I'm talking about. Anyway, hope you enjoy. I tried to fix it. Changed the title by the way. It was originally called "Hibachi" on Tumblr. :)

* * *

Crane was enjoying his date at the Hibachi grill with Zoe. He even earned enough money tutoring history at the library to pay for Zoe and himself. He was amazed by the way the chef twisted and threw the cooking utensils in the air, the way the fire rose and expanded to the point where the heat flushed his cheeks. He played "20 Questions" with Zoe. They talked about history.

Yet, it wasn't right. His date with Zoe wasn't right. She didn't remind him to stop talking about the Founding Fathers so much. There was no explaining why they all sat around the grill with strangers. She didn't tell him why the chef threw pieces of shrimp in their mouths. Zoe wasn't even skeptical when he told her about "Fondle in the Forest."

When he finished all of his food, he excused himself to go to the restroom.  
He took out his phone and made the call.

"Crane, you okay? How is your date?"

"I am well, Leftenant. I'm having a swell time. How is your evening?"

"Good. Danny invited me to dinner."

Crane twitched his fingers. "Really? I hope your date goes well. You deserve it, Leftenant."

"What's wrong, Crane?"

"Nothing is the matter, Leftenant. I just wanted to make sure you were alright."

He didn't hear anything from Abbie.

He sighed, "Zoe is an amazing woman, and we share common interests, but I don't think I shall continue pursuing her, Leftenant."

"Is it about Katrina?"

"Perhaps," he said.

He wasn't really entirely all that sure. He just knew he didn't want to be in an intimate relationship with Zoe.

"It's alright if you're not interested in her, Crane. I only suggested it because I thought it would make you happy. I wanted you to have another chance, a better experience. I didn't mean to push too hard."

"No. It is quite alright, Leftenant. Your intentions were honest. If anything, you've helped me realize that I would wish to remain friends with Miss Zoe. Thank you."

"It's no problem. So, what exactly is it?"

"I'm not sure. Perhaps it is because-"

"Hey, Crane, I don't mean to interrupt, but Danny just got here. Talk when we get home?"

He fixed his jacket. "Of course, Leftenant."

"Alright. And no more discussing the Founding Fathers. Pick something else. Anything. The weather. Baseball. I'm sure you two have much more in common besides the Constitution."

Crane chuckled. "I shall remain open to your admonition, Leftenant."

He heard her laugh. "Ok, Crane. Talk later. Have a good night. Tell Zoe hello."

"I hope your night goes accordingly as well."

He heard Abbie give a small chuckle before hanging up the phone. It was then that realized why this date wasn't right. Zoe wasn't Abbie.


	13. Special Thanks

p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';"So I just wanted to give a very special thanks to Jolo, ReadtoRelax, RhizOneill, QTFics, uneange1, Taylor, nickey79, ProfR, Carmensandiego79, Shakespeare's Lady, sneetchstar, Frenzy cmfan, Ttracee, Purple-Jaxie, Phoenix615, ichabbygirl2345, 26Chapters, MAFITA, Sharon Breaux, cocoalounge, Killer Mike's Biggest Fan, grimmswan, nicew, babycakesbriauna, deweydell25, QTLuv93, rukxichi.15 and all the guests for reading my story. It means so much to me. I love all of your support, and I'm always looking forward to your reviews and requests. It keeps me going. Please keep them coming. Lol. I want to make this the best Ichabbie fanfiction for you as I can. Thank you to all of my followers and to those who favorited my story. Thank you for adding me to your alert list. Some of you have even added me as your favorite author. That means everything to me, so thank you, thank you, thank you, Sleepyheads from my heart. More to come for you. If I didn't add your name, please let me know and I will add it. :)/span/p


	14. Fireplace

Inspired by the fireplace Abbie and Crane sat in front of. I hope you can really feel their intimacy, passion, and love through this. Your feels are welcome. :)

* * *

They twisted, coiled, weaved in front of the fireplace. Crane's fingers roved Abbie's body. He kissed the whole of her skin, swamped into her lips, and whispered her name in various languages until her breathe snared itself in her lungs. Her tongue latched with his; his speech, moans, sighs tinkled her ears while her skin shrunk and expanded with and without his kisses and fingertips. Her light brown eyes soaked in his shoulder blades, chest, collar bone, his sealed, then gaping eyes, his clasping palms, his starved lips. The scent of pine wedged in her nostrils. She assembled herself in front of him, legs swathed on either side of his hips. As the heat of the fire flounced across her bare, arched back, she kissed him, bound them together again. She coddled, indulged the both of them until she could no more.


	15. Sugar Cookies

Because we need a pick-me-up, and Abbie said she feels her way through the chess game, so I'm gonna run with it. Enjoy. :)

* * *

Abbie sat at the kitchen table, reading through another case. She glanced up from her file to check on Crane. He wanted to make some homemade sugar cookies for them and try out the function on Abbie's oven that automatically turned off the stove if you forgot to; he wanted to see if this worked. A dish towel rested on his shoulder, his sleeves were rolled up, and he stood in front of the counter. A bowl and baking tray sat there. He scooped out a small chunk of dough with his fingers, fumbled with it to make it somewhat round before he rolled it between his palms to form its complete circle. After he put the first ball of dough on the cookie sheet, he finished the rest. Abbie bit her lip and wiggled her pen as she stared at him. After he put the cookies in the oven, cleaned up, and washed and dried his hands, she got up from her chair. She grabbed Crane's hand.

"Where are we going, Leftenant?"

Abbie opened the door to the pantry; she stepped inside and pulled Crane with her. After she switched on the dim light, she closed the door.

"Leftenant, why must we hide in your pantry at the moment? Is everything alright?"

She nodded her head, turned around. She let herself fall against his chest; she reached for his hands. Closing her eyes, she sighed as she felt him inhale. She positioned his hands on the middle of her waist with hers on top. They spread their fingers out together. Abbie led his fingers down her waist, toward her hips where she paused them. He kissed her neck.

"Feel your way, Crane."


	16. Clean Up

Some flirty Ichabbie for ajhanderson on Tumblr. :) And Abbie's throwing some shade at Zoe. Lol This was fun to write. I hope it makes sense though. Lol

* * *

"I, too, believe that water should be a free resource for every citizen. It is extraordinary how one takes advantage of a person's well-earned money for their benefit. This capitalist society is atrocious and not what our Founding Fathers wanted. They would be ashamed," Crane said to Zoe.

She had agreed to their date. Somehow, they ended up in a phone conversation about what should be free to the public.

"Absolutely, Crane. Everyone deserves free, clean water."

"It should be an inalienable right," he said.

He heard the door open and saw Abbie walk in. She smiled at him; he smiled back. He watched her as she started to put some books on the shelves.

"Banks are another story altogether."

"Indeed. I took a quick visit to the bank once. You won't believe it, but I found it most agitating that those fellow managers and bank tellers could not offer their customers a simple pen. It was attached to a little chain. Can you believe it? These citizens trust them with their fortunes after all. Would it have really hurt to provide them with a proper writing utensil?"

Crane watched Abbie shake her head and chuckle at him as she put up the last book.

"I know. Why not give your customers an actual pen? What do they have against pens anyway? Do they think someone will steal it? It's just a pen. I don't get it either."

"Exaclty. And why must clothing, food, lodging—all the bare necessities—be so expensive? These are resources that people need on a daily basis. Must one pay an outrageous fee for what one should so rightfully have free of charge or at least without the penalty of taxes?"

He glanced at Abbie. She lowered her eyebrows, then rolled her eyes. She put some maps in a drawer. He shrugged at her; she shook her head again.

"I completely agree. What's that all about?"

"It's complete madness, isn't it? It is a shame. Quite a shame."

Crane and Zoe talked about the amount of staggering technology and fast food that's taken over the world. She agreed with him on every point he made. It was nice to know that someone understood his perspective.

"I'll see you for our dinner this week, Crane?"

"Yes, you will, Miss Corinth. Thank you for accepting my offer, even though you could have rejected it. I look forward to experiencing our time together on our first official outing. I really do hope we can—"

He heard Abbie clear her throat. She motioned for him to speed it up.

"I am looking forward to our evening. I will speak to you another time. Goodnight, Miss Corinth."

"Night, Ichabod. I can't wait either."

"Can you get to the point a little quicker next time, Crane?" Abbie said after he hung up.

"I'll have you know I was not taking my time. I was simply expressing my gratitude." He stood up to finish helping her clean the archives.

"Can you hurry your gratitude up?" She passed him a file to put with the rest of Corbin's cases.

"I shall not make haste, Leftenant." He put it where it belonged.

"Of course, you can't."

"What is that supposed to mean?" He pushed his hair from his face, stood in front of her.

She stepped at bit closer to him, left her fingers on his chest. "It means what it says it means. You take your time about everything. It has to suite you."

"For your information, Leftenant—"

"Don't get haughty with me, Crane. You do go by your own terms, like when you didn't study for your citizenship exam after I told you what to expect. Or how about the fact that you didn't call me for nine months until you were in trouble? My point is you decide to let time go by without regard for anything or anyone sometimes until you're tired of it or up against a wall."

"I do apologize for not contacting your much sooner."

"I know, Crane."

He looked away from her. "Miss Corinth doesn't seem to think I take my time."

"Clearly she doesn't seem to mind. Plus, she agrees with whatever you say, which doesn't help your ego."

"Are you implying Miss Corinth isn't a challenge for me, Leftenant?"

"Like I said, she's a good one."

"Do you believe I like to be challenged?"

"You do." She looked him up and down, let her fingers inch down his chest before she moved them. "Tell me I'm wrong."

He smirked at Abbie. He knew what she was doing.

"You are correct, Leftenant. A good challenge keeps me guessing and wanting to figure it out. Do you know what else it sometimes happens to do?"

She shook her head.

"It turns me on." He brushed his shoulder against hers as he walked past her to finish cleaning up.


	17. Here

Sorry, not sorry. :)

* * *

After Crane finished repeating the spell that opened the portal, he dropped the book on the ground and ran. She sprinted, too, and soon they smashed into each other. He picked her up as she wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist.

"Grace." He put one hand through her hair.

"Ichabod." She squeezed as much of herself into him.

"For as long as I could draw breathe—"

"I know." Her hands scurried through his hair, too.

He examined her widespread eyes, her dirt-smeared cheeks, her clothes that lent the smell of fire; her warm body. It all taunted him until her gentle fingernails scratched down his beard.

"Grace. My Grace."

"How long?"

He shook his head. "You are here now."

"How long?"

"Seven weeks."

Her breathe suppressed itself in the center of her stomach. She bolted her eyes against the things that whacked their way through her mind: broken and burned bodies, screams until she couldn't see, ripping and clawing fingers, loud and shaky voices that skittered into her memories, heat that veiled all her movements.

"You are here now."

With opened eyes, she nodded, relieved for their pressed bodies. Abbie wasn't satisfied though. She knew he wasn't either. They both needed to know where she really was, if she was present, if she was her.

"Let me kiss you," he said, leaning closer.

When she sighed at the press of his lips; when she bunched his hair between her parted fingers, when she slid her tongue against his and moaned, they knew she was still here, still fighting. That she did fight. He moaned once she bit his bottom lip. They bumped teeth trying to kiss again, causing Abbie to bite his tongue. She soothed it with the tip of her own. His freed groans made her clinch his waist. He halted their kiss, only to attend to her neck. His teeth scattered small bites. His hands clutched the back of her thighs as a small gasp loosed itself from her mouth.

"Ichabod." She titled her neck further until he met the hollow of her throat; he pecked it, kissed her lips once more.

"You are my Grace."

"Take me home."

He walked her to the car.


	18. Ginger Pancakes

Did someone say flu? I think sic_fics_are_lifee on Archive of Our Own requested this in the comments section? :) Hope you like it. :)

* * *

Abbie between her sheets while Crane paced in front of her bed.

"Calm down. It's just a cold. All I need is sleep, medicine, and some fluids."

"Would you like some fluids? I can call Mr. Corbin if you need anything. I'm sure he can assist you if-"

"Crane. Stop. Go make cookies or something."

He stopped moving and stared at her. "That is an excellent idea, Leftenant. Do you need any more fluids, medicine, blankets? How about an extra pillow or-"

"Crane, I just need you to leave me alone, so I can go to sleep."

"Oh, very well. I didn't mean-"

"I wasn't trying to snap at you. Stop worrying. I've been sick before. I know what I need, and right now it's rest. But I can't do that if you're panicking about me every second. If I need you, I'll you know."

He nodded his head as he walked to her side of the bed. He bent down to kiss her forehead.

"Rest well, Leftenant. I shall leave you in peace, but please, do not hesitate to call me."

Abbie grabbed his hand and squeezed it. "Thanks, Crane."

"It is my pleasure. I will be in the kitchen if you require my assistance."

She nodded her head, began to shut her eyes. He left.

When he was in the kitchen, he searched through her cabinets and counters for ginger, the griddle, pancake batter, olive oil, a spatula, a plate, and all the other items he'd need.

He wanted to make the Leftenant a meal she would enjoy. She didn't like soup, but she did eat a few crackers and a bowl of rice. The first two days, she slept. She was far better today, but she needed more rest. Joe came to visit her and gave her what she needed. He told Crane what to feed her or what to do if she got worse.

As he waited for the stove to heat, he began mixing the pancake batter. Then he sprinkled some ginger, cinnamon, and nutmeg in the batter and stirred. When the stove heated, he poured some oil on the griddle and spread it around. He started making the pancakes: pouring, flipping, and flopping.

He didn't mind cooking for Miss Mills. He enjoyed it. It was the least he could do, since she let him reside in her home.

Watching Abbie cough, sneeze, take pills, and lay in bed all day wasn't easy. She wasn't able to work like she normally would. She did try to work from home, but Agent Reynolds told her to take as long as she needed. Abbie would be back though. She always bounced back.

When all the pancakes were ready, he put the food, a glass of water, and the small bottle of honey on the tray. He walked towards her room.

* * *

After he got there, he put the tray on her nightstand beside her. She rested on her back while her head leaned to the side. A blue rag covered her forehead. He smiled at her, shook his head. She must have gotten up to get it while he cooked. He would have done it for her, but he knew Abbie. She was always so independent.

He shook her, and she opened her eyes.

"Crane?"

"I've made you supper, Leftenant. You haven't eaten all day."

Abbie nodded, yawned, removed the cloth, and took her time sitting up. "What did you make?"

He sat the plate in her lap. "Ginger pancakes."

He walked to the other side of bed; he sat down beside her. She put some honey on her food and took a small bite.

"Good. You haven't made me these before. I would offer you a bite, but I don't want you to get sick eating off me. That's the last thing we need."

"I don't think you would have offered even if you weren't sick, Leftenant."

She chuckled. "No. You make amazing pancakes. Those chocolate chip and pecan ones you made last week were great. Why do you like making them so much?"

"The remind me of my mum."

Abbie stopped chewing. She put her hand on his shoulder. "Crane-"

"It's alright, Leftenant. I don't mind talking about her."

She chewed and swallowed. "Lila, right? She supported your choice to leave for America."

"Yes, that is all correct. Sometimes she wrote me letters during the war. I had all of them in a chest in my closet, but there are no more, since my heart was stopped for 200 years."

Abbie nodded. "Would you to tell me more?"

"She made me ginger pancakes when I was sick." He paused. "I miss her, Leftenant."

Abbie sat her plate on the nightstand, then she reached for his hand. He kissed her fingers and stared down at them. She put her other hand on his cheek to lift his face to her.

"I understand."

He nodded. "I'm sure she is in a far better place though. Perhaps both our mothers have become friends wherever they are. We were destined to meet, even centuries apart. They could have been, too."

"Maybe they drink tea together, and mama makes her chicken soup."

"Did you not like your mother's chicken soup? Is that why you don't eat it?"

She shook her head. "Let's just say I miss my mom alot, too."

"Abbie. I understand, too." He kissed her forehead, her cheek.

She nodded, too, and ate the rest of her pancakes. When she finished her plate, she sat it on the nightstand, let Crane hold her. He leaned them against her headboard.

"Rub my back, please."

"As you wish."

Crane's hands slipped under her shirt; Abbie closed her eyes as his warm hands roved up, down, and in circles on her bare back.

"Is this relaxing you?"

"More than you know."

"I don't think you are wearing that contraption: your bra. Isn't that what you call it?"

Abbie laughed into his collar. "Yeah, Crane. Sometimes it's not comfortable to sleep in, so I take it off."

"I think I prefer it that way. It gives me a far better advantage." His fingers crept to her waist.

She stared at him. "Hands on my back. Unless you want to get sick, I suggest you don't go there."

He smirked. "Who says we have to kiss each other? There's always another way, Leftenant."

Abbie shook her head. "After my cold is over, beware. You'll be speaking another language."

"I will take that challenge." He kissed her forehead again.

She shook her head as he continued to rub her back in silence. Abbie closed her eyes again.

"Do you think your mom would like me if she were still living?"

"I do," Crane said. "She would have the upmost respect for a woman of your time. She would be most surprised at your bravery and outspokenness. My mother would be proud to call you her daughter-in-law."

"We aren't married, you know?"

"I know, but if we were, Leftenant, she'd be most happy. Would your mum take to me?"

"Yeah. At first she would think you're strange, but then after she got to know you, she would like you a lot. She'd think your rants were funny."

"I'm pleased to hear it."

"What about our dads?"

"That is an interesting question, considering we don't have the best relationship with our fathers. If we made amends with them, I do believe they would have liked the both of us together. They'd say we were the perfect match."

Abbie played with his collar. "I think so, too."

"I do wish that the both of us had more time with our parents."

"Yeah, but we did enjoy our time with them while they were here, despite the bad."

"Truer words, Leftenant."

"Do you think they are proud of us?"

"Indeed, I do. Do you?"

She looked at him, smiled. "I do."

He kissed her forehead again, then rubbed her back until they fell asleep.


	19. Marble

Happy belated Thanksgiving, Sleepyheads. Hope you had a great one. :) These two are so married. :) Plus, can anyone resist Crane with a puppy? :) For sic_fics_are_lifee. Let's pretend he has a job in this one. Okay? :)

* * *

Abbie finished dinner while Crane went for a walk. She wanted to give him a bit of a break, since he cooked all last week. She glanced at the microwave clock. He was ten minutes late and grabbed his phone before he left. He would have called if something happened. Where is he? The front door opened.

"Leftenant?"

She walked to the door.

"Crane?"

"I apologize for being late. My new friend kept up my time."

Abbie stared at the small white and black puppy in his hands. The dog sniffed and squirmed.

"Crane."

"Can we keep her? One of your neighbors, Mr. Bill is his name, was giving away puppies. She doesn't have a home, Leftenant."

He turned her around in his hands and nuzzled her nose; she licked it, and Crane smiled. He turned the puppy back around. Abbie sighed. If Crane didn't look so damn cute holding this puppy in his big hands with his stupid sincere smile, then she would have said no.

"She's your dog, Crane. Not mine. She's your responsibility. I don't need anyone else I have to clean up after."

"I beg your pardon."

"Sometimes you leave the teapot on the stove or don't put the lid on the sugar container. Not to mention you leave your saucer of lemons on the table."

"My apologies, Leftenant. I will be sure to clean up after myself."

Abbie nodded. "You want to finish dinner? All that's left are the noodles and the garlic bread."

"I will get right on it. Would you mind?" He walked towards her with the dog.

Her lips formed a thin line as she took the dog. "Fine. Wash your hands. She'll need to get shots and checked out to make sure she's healthy. Dogs can be really expensive, Crane. Are you sure you want her?"

"I am positive, Leftenant. I have saved a few of my funds from my tutoring sessions at the library. I shall take proper care of her."

"I'll help if you need me to."

The puppy sniffed and licked her fingers.

"Thank you, but she is my responsibility. I will be sure to ask for your assistance if it is required."

Abbie nodded. "What's her name?"

"I'm not sure. How about Linda?"

She shook her head and looked down at the dog again. Her fur was black and white. "Marble, like the cake you made last week."

"Hmm." He put his finger up. "I like that name; it suites her. That marble cake was quite scrumptious by the way. I may make another for dessert."

"No strawberry cheesecake?"

"Oh, of course. It is your favorite, and I did promise I'd make it tonight. I will make it a goal to make the cake next time."

"I'll puppysit while you finish everything. Go on."

Abbie sat on the couch with Marble in her lap. She tried to walk around, but jumped up toward Abbie's face. Her paws rested above her chest. Abbie shook her head at Marble as she licked her cheek. She sighed, gave her a small smile. Picking her up, she brought her closer to her face, nuzzled her nose to hers as Crane did. Marble licked her nose, too.


	20. The Book

How I think Crane handled being without Abbie. A sad, short blurb.

* * *

Jenny put a cup of lemon tea in front of Crane. He stared into it, let the steam tickle his nose and lips.

"Something needs to be in your system," she said.

She sat a bag of doughnut holes beside his cup. He pushed them both away.

"You also need sleep. Joe and I will take over for now. Rest up."

He stared at her, blinked, then flipped another page in the book he was reading. Jenny reached for it, but he put it in his lap before she could get it.

"I want to find her just as much, but you can't do this alone. You need to eat, drink, and sleep. It's been three days. You can't help her without any energy."

He flipped another page in the book.

"Talk to me."

"For as long as I draw breathe, Miss Jenny."

He stood up and left the kitchen.

"Crane? Crane?" Jenny said.

She left the house to get more groceries, but Crane wasn't in the kitchen when she got back. The living room and dining room was empty, so was the backyard. He wasn't in his room either. She stood outside of Abbie's room. Her door was closed. She went inside without knocking and saw Crane sleeping on her carpet with the opened book as his pillow. Bags lived under his eyes; his cheekbones appeared a little bit sharper.

Smiling a bit, she bent in front of him. Little by little, she slid the book from his hands. A photo hid some of the words. She picked up a smiling Crane and Abbie. She snapped this photo last New Year. They didn't want to take anymore pictures and glanced at each other with annoyed looks, but then their gazes turned into something else. She captured it before it went away. Sighing, she placed their picture in the crease of the book, shut it, and put it on the bed. Jenny found a blanket in Abbie's closet. She unfolded it and covered Crane with it. She left the room with the book under her arm.


	21. Here (Continued)

A continuation of "Here." A little more than a blurb. Enjoy. :)

* * *

Crane watched Abbie take off her jacket and shoes when they stepped into the house. They didn't talk about their kiss.

"Do you want me to prepare you a meal?" he said.

"That'd be great. Thanks. I'm going to shower."

He nodded, stared at her.

She put her hand on his chest. "I'll be fine, Crane."

He nodded again and let her go. After he observed her walking up the stairs, he went into the kitchen to make her food. He decided on spaghetti and garlic bread. Cookies would be for dessert.

Having her home relieved him. He could finally rest, had a little more air now that she was home with him. His imagination couldn't form any of the ordeals she endured while in that place. He would never know and wasn't sure if Abbie would share them with him.

By the time he set their plates on the table, Abbie stood in the entrance of the kitchen. He gazed at her with a slightly open mouth. She wore one of his shirts and only his shirt. It was a white, long-sleeve that stopped a few inches above her knees. The collar was open, revealing her skin and the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. She was exquisite.

"Dinner is ready."

He pulled out her chair for her. She walked further into the kitchen and sat in it. He sat down, too. Their forks, the balling of napkins, the crunch of bread, the slurp of noodles, and the jingling of ice cubes made conversation for them. Crane put their plates in the sink when they finished.

"Would you like dessert? I made sugar cookies."

Abbie shook her head. He put all the cookies in a plastic container and sat back at the table.

"You're not having any?" she said.

"Perhaps tomorrow."

She stared at him while she bit her bottom lip. His fingers squirmed under the table.

"You haven't been taking care of yourself."

"How could I when I knew your predicament? I had to get you out."

"You came for me."

He stared at her with his mouth open. Did she think he wouldn't come for her? That he would just leave her there?

"Did you have any doubt?"

"That place…. Worse than Purgatory. Some days I gave up, but some I didn't."

"What gave you a sense of hope?"

"Jenny and Joe. Irving. Corbin. Mama. Grace. All the people I love kept me hoping."

She stood up and walked to stand in front of him. He turned around in his chair. Her hands brushed through his hair while she brought their foreheads together. As his hands found her waist, he drew her between his parted legs. He looked at her.

"Did I keep you hoping?"

"More than anyone else."

"What happened to you in there?"

Abbie shook her head. "It doesn't matter now."

He let his finger run down her nose. "It does. Please don't conceal it from me."

She shook her head again. "Not tonight. Another time. Let me forget it for once."

He nodded. "You're wearing my shirt."

"I want a way to contain you for a little bit until they come for me."

Crane's eyebrows sunk to his eyes; he rubbed the sides of her waist. "No one will take you away from me again."

Her eyes widened. "They said they would get me, Crane. I have to hide."

She tried to remove his hands from her hips, but he held on tighter.

"Abbie."

Crane didn't like seeing her like this. She seemed to have a sense of nostalgia or post-traumatic stress as she called it. The only time he remembered her like this was in the tunnels when they searched for Franklenstein. The bats froze her.

"They're coming for me. Let me go."

He held her by her wrists; she tried to get away from him.

"Abbie."

"Hide. I have to hide from—"

He shook her a little. "Grace."

She quieted, and her eyes roamed his face. She nodded. "You're here?"

He touched her cheek. "What did that place do to you?"

"It got inside me."

"How can I remove it?"

"It'll always be here, Crane, just like Purgatory. You can't do much."

"Out of the much, what can I do?"

"Make me forget."

Crane's hands drifted under the shirt she wore; he hoped the circles he massaged into her back soothed her. She closed her eyes and titled her head back a little. Her small gasp spilled between them. The hem of his shirt snuck up her thighs as she put her legs around his waist. He kissed the palms of her hands, pressed them into his chest. She loosened his buttons. Then she kissed his lips.

He squeezed her thighs and left a gentle nip on the side of her neck. His tongue slid with hers as carried her to the living room and discarded her clothing. "Grace" and "I'm here" dropped through her lavender skin. He jumbled their fingers; he tied himself into her until her strangled gasps became unconstrained while her legs and arms cramped and coiled in his skin. Her halved words thumped in his ear, and he knew she had forgotten.


	22. Taking Turns

So this took a turn. Hope it makes sense. :/

* * *

Crane browsed the books on the shelf while Abbie compared one crime scene photo to another. Pandora sent out another creature to create more panic. Nothing was out of the way, except that the two victims were frozen in different positions. A lady with brown skin, short hair, and full lips like Abbie's stood with her arms and legs spread apart like she guarded someone. The other victim, a white man with short brown hair and a beard, had an arm in front of him with the other outstretched beside him. He looked like he protected someone, too, and also resembled Crane. The creature left a card by the foot of them, each with a short message. The other FBI agents didn't know what it meant, but Abbie did.

"'One must come,'" she said. "This is aimed at us. Pandora is being pretty forward."

"Will she stop at nothing?" Crane said as he sat at the table across from her.

She shook her head. "More people will die. One of us has to go to her. I'll go."

He held up his finger. "You shall not. Not this time, Leftenant."

It's been five weeks since Abbie has been back. She's readjusted, gotten back into the things. The first few days were the toughest. She wouldn't sleep in her bed. The sofa or Crane's room were her options. Crane didn't mind letting her sleep with him. He worried less when she did. Sometimes, she wouldn't even sleep and stayed up all night. Crane sung to her to get her to bed. It worked. Now, she slept in her own bed and started work last week.

"You don't tell me what to do."

"I'm not. However, given that you just escaped the clutches of Pandora the first time, I don't think you should revisit. I will do it, Leftenant. I'll go."

Abbie stood up, shook her head. She paced the floor. He got up and stopped her. His hands rested on her shoulders.

"Even if Pandora doesn't want one of us in Hell, why do you want to go back, Leftenant? This will do you no good. It will only hurt you and all the progress you've made. What about Miss Jenny? Imagine what this will—"

"I don't need you to lecture me, Crane. I know the consequences. I just… I want to show Pandora that she can't get to me, that wherever or whatever she places in front of me won't push me over the edge. I refuse to give up this time."

Crane bent down to her eye level. "Leftenant, I understand how much you want to prove her wrong. However, this isn't the way to do it. There's always another way."

"Which is what? You go instead? That's not happening."

"And why not?" He stood to his regular height.

"Because she'll break your spirit like she did mine. That can't happen to you."

"I can assure you that my spirit is—"

"Why do you want to—?"

"My spirit won't be whole if I lose you again. I will protect yours at any means necessary."

"I don't need your protection, Crane."

"Why must you always be so brave, Miss Mills?"

"There's no other choice. You're not going to Pandora."

"Neither are you."

Abbie stepped away from him and walked towards the door. Crane didn't like her being stubborn. He would easily give up his own life for her to live hers. He wouldn't let her sacrifice herself once more while he stood watching. When she opened the door, he shut it, causing her to turn around.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"You are not going anywhere. I will not allow it."

She stepped closer towards him.

"Only one of us can go. We're not arguing about this. I told you I'm going."

"Why won't you let me carry the burden?"

"Because I can't trust you to. Not with this."

Crane took a step back from her; she couldn't look at him.

"We are partners, Abbie." He paused. "We are friends, almost lovers even. How could you not trust me?"

"I do trust you, but I can't."

Was this a part of her trauma or was she actually saying this to him? Either way, he didn't want it to hurt him as much as it did.

"What do you mean?"

"We haven't talked about the first night when I returned home, what we did."

Crane tried to talk to Abbie about it, about what it meant for them, but she shut him out. She told him not to bring it up again, and he didn't. They went on like it didn't happen. It came back to him though: her lavender scent, her moans and gasps, her strong legs that kept him bottled in her. They didn't talk about it.

"No, we have not."

"That night changed how I saw you. If I trust you to let you give yourself for me means I've fallen for you. You can't do that and then leave. I want the chance to discover us, Crane."

He stood up, walked in front of her. "I knew I fell for you when I saw you running from that wretched place. After I kissed and made love to you on the couch, it was permanent. It was sealed."

"I don't know how to handle all of these emotions I have for you," she said.

"I know what you mean. They can be scary at times. Thus, we do what we know best: solve it together."

She nodded.

They stood in Pandora's lair side by side. She glanced between the both of them.

"It's tragic, isn't it? I'll admit it. It saddens me to separate two soul mates. Your love has only grown stronger. It won't be easy, but one of you has to join me. There is no choice. Would you want more blood on your hands?"

Abbie took Crane's hand; he entwined their fingers. Pandora shook her head and turned away from them.

"Who will it be, Witnesses? Who will sacrifice themselves to be my captive?" She faced them again.

As Crane tried to step forward, Abbie squeezed his hand. He stared at her, and Abbie moved closer towards him. She grabbed his lapels, stood on her tip toes to kiss him. She placed her lips near his beard.

"I love you."

Crane swallowed and cleared his throat. He bit the inside of his cheek before hugging Abbie. He squeezed her and kissed the top of her hair. He wanted to tell her the same thing, but she made him promise he wouldn't. It wouldn't help. He let her go and touched her cheek. Their foreheads met.

"Come what may," he said.

"Come what may."

He turned to Pandora. With glassy eyes and her hands over her heart, she sighed.

"Take one last glance at your lover," she said.

Crane turned his head to Abbie. She nodded; he did, too. Then he turned to Pandora, who held her hand out. After he took it, she led them into her opened tree. Once it closed, Abbie stood in front of it and touched it.

"Come what may."

She left Pandora's lair.


	23. Daisy

Just because. :) Something for your feels. Muwahahaha. :)

* * *

Crane found Abbie in her basement again. He came home from the library to Chinese takeout on the counter with a note.

 _You know where I am. Enjoy lunch._

 _-Abbie_

It was another Saturday. Nothing distracted them: no demons, no Pandora, no Witness duties. Therefore, Crane decided to catch up on some reading. He got out of bed early while he let Abbie sleep. Now, she painted the wall that forced him to stare at her back. She wore shorts, a t-shirt, and stood on her bare tip toes. Her opened container of food sat in the wooden chair with the blanket. He titled his head, gave her a small smile before going to stand beside her.

"What happened to not intruding?" she said, staring at her half-painted purple wall, her paint roller in hand.

He shrugged. "I couldn't help myself."

She chuckled and shook her head. "I got your text. How was the library?"

"Quite wonderful. I read a short story about a man and his potted daisy. He referred to his flower as 'her.'"

"Was it interesting?"

"Yes. Very much so."

"That doesn't sound like much of a story, but I'm glad you liked it."

She carried on with her painting while he spoke. "I did. He was very attentive to the divine daisy and put her by the window. He thought his daisy would find it more comfortable. It seemed so. She sprouted her leaves for him. The lovely daisy had an arched stem because she wanted to reach the sun, the most precious offering she could receive. He moved her closer to it, and the man saw her face glow once she obtained what she desired. That instant nearly brought tears to his eyes. To know that he could position the daisy in such a way that her wish was granted—there were no words."

Abbie painted a little slower. Then she stopped and turned toward him. "What did the daisy and the man do when she was completely in the sun?"

He let his hands hold her hips. "The daisy urged herself to capture as much of the sun as she could. The man was so joyful to preserve her there until she grew tired. When she was out of the sun, she was fully bloomed. The man was most delighted and humbled to have assisted in that occurrence."

She put her brush down. Her fingers hid in Crane's hair when he got on his knees.

"Can I make you fully bloomed, Abbie?" he said.

Her shorts and underwear fell to her ankles.


	24. Lemon Tea and His Shirt

A continuation of "Taking Turns." More to come. Enjoy. :)

* * *

"Joe and I can stay with you tonight, Abbie." Jenny handed her a cup of lemon tea.

"Pour that out, Jenny."

She put the cup on the table.

"Don't worry about staying the night. Go get some rest. We'll meet here tomorrow morning." Abbie got up and walked to the door.

"Abbie."

"I'll see you tomorrow."

Jenny tried to hug Abbie, but she took one step back. Her sister stared at her before glancing out the door. Then she stared back to Abbie.

"See you tomorrow, Abbs," she said.

Abbie nodded and shut the door behind Jenny when she left. She knew she had to keep it together in order to get Crane from Pandora. This is the second time they've been separated like this. How would this change them even further? Would this distance them from each other or bring them closer together?

She still dealt with the trauma behind the Underworld. It was occurred in bits and pieces nowadays. Sometimes whispering, a pat on the arm she wasn't expecting, or the heat would trigger a flashback. Imagining how Crane would handle the Underworld himself concerned her.

The tea on the table didn't do her any favors when she walked in her living room. She didn't touch it, only stared at the steam that floated up and disappeared. The steam was there and then it wasn't. It was kind of like—. She left the tea and walked out the living room.

After her shower, she got into her bed. Lying on her back or on her side didn't help, nor did lying on her stomach. She squirmed for a whole hour before she got up and walked to Crane's room. He wouldn't answer if she knocked, so she slowly opened his door. His bed was unmade, but everything else was in its right place. The blue comforter would have been made if he hadn't slept in her room. It was the day before they figured out who would go to Pandora. He was worried about her and wanted to be there. She let him.

Walking further into his room, she sat on his bed, squeezed his comforter and closed her eyes. She inhaled. Everything smelled like outside, like pine trees and grass, like him. She hurried out of his room. In hers, she searched through her drawers for the shirt she wore the first night she returned home from the Underworld. She took off her pajamas to put it on, pulled at the sleeves to tighten his shirt around her body.

Hours passed as she lay in her bed with his shirt wrapped around her. After curling into herself for a few minutes, she finally got back out of bed. She took off his shirt, put it back in the drawer, and redressed in her previous pajamas. She grabbed two blankets from her closet as well as a new pillow that she threw on the floor. With one blanket spread on her carpet and the other wrapped around her, she lay down and slept.


	25. Weakness and Strength

The last part. Continued from "Lemon Tea and His Shirt." I may break your heart at first with them, but don't worry. I'll fix it at the end. I hope.

* * *

"Crane? Crane?" Abbie said, standing in front of the portal to the Underworld with a spellbook.

Pandora walked behind him, stood in the entrance. "Your lover is yours again, Witness."

She turned around and the portal closed behind her. It was just Abbie and Crane. Jenny and Joe waited for them in the car, like they did when Crane found Abbie.

"Crane?" Abbie stepped closer to him. "Crane? Can you hear me?"

He stared at her for a moment before he spoke. "I wish to go home, Leftenant."

Abbie nodded, reached for his hand. When he squeezed her fingers, she knew he was still her Crane.

* * *

She glanced at him as she fixed him spaghetti. He was quiet and only stared straight. She didn't know how to bring him back. Being in the Underworld did things to a person. She knew what it did to him, what it did to her. It really does break your spirit, your hope, but Crane helped her find hers again. She would do the same for him.

"Do you want to go shower until dinner?" she said, stirring the noodles.

She heard him stand up and leave the kitchen. His empty chair reminded her of the seven weeks without him. She found comfort in his covers, squashed them into herself until she couldn't breathe. That was the only time when she let his absence overtake her. She returned to her room for sleep. Now that he wasn't in the Underworld anymore, she wanted to fully release the pressure and grief that cleaved to her.

When the food was ready, she put their plates on the table and sat down to wait for Crane. Five minutes passed. She played with her finger nails. Ten minutes. She bit her lip. Eleven. Abbie rushed upstairs to the bathroom.

The door was locked; she called his name. Running water replied. She kicked down the door, ran to him as quickly as she could without slipping. His body sunk completely underwater. Abbie sat him up and let the water drain. She dragged him out of the tub. He felt heavier with his drenched coat on. Once spread out on the floor, she gave him CPR.

"Come on. Crane."

She pumped his chest, blew air into his mouth. Pumped and blew. Pumped and blew. Pumped and blew. He finally coughed, sat up, and leaned against the tub. Abbie rested her back against the wall. She didn't look at him. Was the Underworld that bad for him? Did it break him just that much? He almost committed suicide. He would do that to her? Leave her like that again without a goodbye? First the sin eater, then his grief with Katrina, and now this. She leaned her head against the wall and cried while Crane stared and stared. All the water drained out the tub.

* * *

Abbie wiped her face, straightened up.

"I thought you weren't real," Crane said.

She didn't meet his eyes.

"She said you didn't exist anymore, and I believed her, Leftenant. I believed her."

The fact that Pandora went as far to torture Crane that way made Abbie's skin tighten. It wasn't enough that she kept him as her captive, but she tormented him about her life. Abbie was sick of Pandora.

"She destroyed me, Abbie."

Her eyes clicked with his, and she saw him cry. She scooted over to him, grabbed his sat in silence again until Abbie stood up.

"You need to eat and get out of those clothes."

He stood up slowly and took her hand again.

* * *

Abbie felt a little more at ease when Crane had some food in his stomach. He took a shower, but not by himself. She sat on the toilet and made him sing "Proud Mary" to her. She sung with him. When it was Abbie's turn, they did the same.

They went into his room for bed. She didn't want to leave him alone. What if he slipped into that same head space and tried to kill himself again? He wouldn't be by himself for a few days. Crane sat on the edge of his bed while Abbie stood by his dresser.

"Thank you for your assistance, Abbie. You may return to your sleeping quarters."

She walked toward him, stood between his knees. She allowed herself to touch his cheeks.

"I'm staying."

He nodded. "I do want to apologize for my behavior. My intention was not to frighten you, Abbie. I was—"

"I know."

"It was madness. The most unimaginable events occur in there."

Abbie nodded. "You don't have to—"

"I need to."

She sat in his lap; he held his arms around her waist.

"I heard all kinds of voices. Some of them begged for mercy. A lot of them screamed and screamed. Lost souls even tried to take me with them. They reached for me; they tried to drag me down. The temperature was also quite unbearable. However, that was not the worse part. The hardest cruelty I faced down there were Pandora's constant reminders that I would never lay eyes on you again. Her words fell into my being over and over again. There was nothing I could do about it but accept it."

Abbie nodded again. "Pandora wasn't with me, but they do play with your mind."

"I tried, but she got to me so. When I finally saw you, I couldn't believe it. Shock and Pandora's persuasive taunts engulfed me."

She was glad Crane opened up to her, but she knew it would take him a while to get readjusted. He would have good days and bad days, but she would be there for him. He was there for her.

He put his hand on her cheek. "How did you fare?"

"I held on. I went to work. After work, Jenny, Joe, and I did everything we could to find you. Then I came home. Sometimes, they slept over."

She didn't tell him about burying herself in his bed. He was already fragile enough. If he knew how his absence affected her, he would have been worse than he was.

"Are you withholding, Leftenant?"

"I will tell you when you have a little strength."

He nodded and kissed her forehead. "Thank you for listening."

"It's what I'm here for." She got off his lap. "We should get some sleep."

"In a moment." He held her between his legs, his hands around her.

"What do you need?"

"I need to touch my strength and weakness; I need to touch you."

Abbie and Crane removed pieces of each other's clothing one at a time. They kissed and touched lips, shoulders, palms, the middle of backs, the inside of thighs, the areas that swamped them in solid pleasure. Their intimacy triggered croaked names, tensing, slacking, and tensing again. As they lay face-to-face on different pillows, she told him how she fared.


	26. Book

I wrote something before, but I won't post it because it didn't go the way I wanted. I'll post it when it's done though. Here's some Ichabbie after all that news about Ichabbie being separated for a few episodes and Crane having to work with Sophie (ugh.) So smile. :) I don't know if this makes sense though. :/ lol It was kind of difficult to write.

* * *

Crane and Abbie stood in the back of the library, in an aisle and section where no one else was. They skimmed through thick books that would help them with their latest case. She tried to reach a book on the top shelf, but couldn't. Crane reached it for her.

"Thanks," she said, turning to him. Her back was against the shelf.

"You're welcome, Leftenant." He stared at her with the book in his hands.

"Something on your mind?"

He flipped through the pages, set the book on the shelf by her head.

"Can I read you, Leftenant?"

"What are you talking about?"

"What is your reply?" He stepped closer to her.

"What will happen if I say yes?"

"I will open your cover." He messed with the collar on her jacket, the hem of her shirt, and the waistband of her jeans. "My fingers and eyes will examine your pages and all the ways I can bend, crease, and flip them."

She glanced down at his thumb that traced the bulge of her breasts. Then he kissed her neck, which she slightly curved into his tongue. Her breath caught itself near her spine.

"I'd read your words last. They'd tell me everything: where to begin, where to end, where to mark as my favorite spot. They'd tell me."

She bit her lip to keep from moaning. Why was he torturing her like this? He knew they were in a library. Of all places to tempt her, he picked now. There was hardly anyone in here, but still.

"The middle of you would be my beloved, the most adored. That is where you're heightened. You're most interesting when I'm there. Moments happen that I wouldn't expect, that I can't explain. That is where the story lies. It's where I'd eventually hold my bookmark. I'd move it once, twice, as many times until I'm at your contented finale." He kissed her, put distance between them. "That is only if your answer is yes."

He made her skin itch and her stomach bobble. She grabbed his hand and pulled him to the side of the bookshelf. Her hands circled his neck. As he picked her up, her legs clinched around his waist. _Damn him._


	27. On His Knees

Something for your feels. Inspired by some of the promo pics. :)

* * *

He stood there, face to face with Abbie. His mouth gaped at her torn and dirty dark green t-shirt, her leggings ripped at her thigh, her scratched, maybe even bitten, arms, her bare feet. Her hair dripped in curls around her face and just a little over her shoulders. Her brown eyes hurt him most. Wide and bright, they flinched with fear and a something that most likely gnawed a piece of her courage and strength. She was and wasn't the same.

He stepped toward her until he could inhale her breath and she is. His thumb skimmed her cheek, and she shielded her eyes. He bent on his knees, wanting to see her as she was: damaged, vulnerable, strong, ever beautiful.

Even at knee-level she wouldn't look at him. She stared above his head. He put his hands on her hips. They brushed down her thighs. Then back up to her hips. He needed to reach her.

"Abbie."

Her eyes shifted to his while his fingers slid under her the hem of shirt. She closed her eyes when his fingers melded into her hips. Her hands found his beard, his cheeks, the back of his neck, his hair. Her finger traced his eyebrow, made their way down his nose, grazed his lips and chin.

"Crane."

He kissed her belly button through her shirt. She sighed, with her hands in his hair.

"What has she done to you? Where is she?"

She didn't say anything.

He grabbed her hands. "Abbie, where is Pandora?"

"You have to go."

"Not without you."

"Crane."

"I'm not leaving without you, Abbie."

"It's in her lair in the water. You'll find what you need there."

"How do you know?"

"Eavesdropping on her and her boyfriend."

He smiled up at her. "You are quite resourceful even in the worst of times."

"I had to do something." She put her forehead to his. "You really have to go now, Crane."

"I do not wish to."

"It's not up for debate." She kissed his forehead as he hugged her to him.

He gazed up at her again. "I will come back for you."

She nodded and tilted his head back a little further to kiss him. He moaned as their tongues clashed. His fingers creeped further across her skin; she sighed and held his hair in clumps before she finally stopped. She helped him up. Then he kissed her forehead.

"For as long as I draw breathe, Abbie."

"Go."

He kissed her palms, kept his eyes on her.

"Ichabod."

"You have my word, Grace Abigail Mills." He released her hands and closed his eyes. Before he was finally awaken from his trance, he felt her lips on his and a faint, "I love you."


	28. One Minute

I did a thing. I saw fans talking about Crane's astral form and not being able to hug Abbie because of it. I decided to write it. I don't think anyone has yet. I don't know how the actual scene will go, but here's my take. This chess game is so inaccurate by the way. Lol I don't play chess at didn't feel angsty enough for me, but I hope you like it. :)

* * *

A chess board with red and white pieces sat on a boulder. In her tattered clothes, she crawled over to it. She wanted it, and it appeared. The Underworld was funny like that. Made things appear. She couldn't get the actual Crane, but chess was close enough. A memory would do. She beat him last time.

She moved a piece on her side. "Your turn, Crane."

She shifted a knight for him.

"Nice." She lifted another one of her knights. "I'm better though."

He'd say something smug; she relocated his rook. She slide her piece and then his. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. Her last move. She formed a small smile, remembering the way his fingers wiggled and his eyebrows sunk down toward his eyes.

"Checkmate," she said.

Her smile left. He wasn't in front of her. Just the cave wall. She didn't know really. Nothing looked as it was. She felt like Alice, falling down the rabbit hole and seeing all kinds of strange creatures and people. "Curiouser and curiouser" as she said. Curiouser indeed.

Abbie stared at the space in front of her. Stared and stared and breathed and breathed until it was heavy. Her hands bunched her curly hair; she shut her eyes. Then she scrambled the pieces and chess board itself everywhere. It hit the ground.

 _Damn him._

She missed him too much. Even a little more than Jenny and Joe. She's needed to get out of here; she needed her sister and Joe. Him. Crane. Standing up, she paced, paced, and paced with her hands on her hips or her hands in her hair. All she could do was breath and speak to the floor and vines. She said his words.

"Have faith, Leftenant. All we really get is one another." She bit her lip. The tears came. "I choose to forge my fate with you."

What did Henry tell them? To cling to each other? Hold on to their connection because it was the key to surviving? She'd hold on to something. Had to. For her sake and his.

"Leftenant? Abbie?"

His voice sounded real, too real from behind her. She chuckled. Losing it, she was. Of course, she'd talk back though.

"You're in my head, Crane."

"Abbie, I assure you I am not. Turn around."

She did, and there he was. She ran.

His hands quickly outstretched as he said, "Leftenant. Don't. I'm not in my real form. I am a projection, a hologram as you call it."

She almost didn't stop herself. When she did, she stood as close to him as possible. Right there. He was literally right there. Centimeters. Whatever was smaller than centimeters. That's how close she was. His breath swept down her face toward her collar bone. He smelled like leaves and books. Like Crane. Her Crane. Why couldn't she touch him? The one thing she wanted most and she couldn't have it. Skin on skin, his hands rubbing up and down her back, her name in her ear, her head in the corner of his neck, her hands scrambling down his chest. His lips that she'd hope to taste because it was the only thing that could soothe the crazy in her. But it couldn't happen. She couldn't _have_ him like she wanted.

Her fingers splayed out beside her; she shut her eyes. "Ichabod."

She never knew herself to be so weak. The amount of control she had to have. He was so close. It drove her mad. She itched where she couldn't scratch. Just kept itching and itching for him that it began to hurt. All she could do was stare into him.

"You don't know how desperately I wish to touch you, too, Abbie." His fingers twitched.

She almost chocked on his breath that hit her forehead and lips. "I need you."

She thought she saw his eyes brighten with tears. He opened his mouth to speak, but he couldn't.

"We can't, Abbie."

"What will happen?"

"Then I will be no more. I will disappear within a minute. This spell doesn't allow me the luxury of physical contact for long."

A small whimper came from her. "Crane."

"Abbie. Please."

She bit her lip. His smell and voice was more than she could take. The way he said her name. Would she really risk it? Could she risk it? Not just yet.

"Help me, Crane. I don't know how to get out. You used something before that let us make contact. It kind of worked. Try that again. I'll try to find a way from here. Retrace my steps or something."

She wondered in all kinds of places. She walked and walked and ran into things she didn't want to see again. The Underworld did her no favors. Now, here she was. A mess and suffering from more PTSD and whatever else.

"You will not remain in here any longer, Grace Abigail Mills. If could pull you through, I would in a heartbeat."

She nodded. "Can I feel it? Your heartbeat?"

She almost thought she could hear it. Almost.

He closed his eyes. "Abigail, I desire to entwine our souls, but—"

That was it. She jumped onto him with her legs squeezing his waist, so he wouldn't leave. He was solid for this short minute she kissed him. Her fingers dug into his hair while his found her backside. He moaned, their tongues wild and strong. Crane leaned her against the cave wall; she said his name while his lips scattered her neck.

"Time," he said.

She whimpered again when he nipped her neck, embracing as much of him before she couldn't anymore. He hurriedly kissed her once more before she finally unclenched her legs. Then she felt both her feet on the ground.

"I love you," she said.

She was left hugging herself.


	29. The Counter

Something I posted on Tumblr earlier. I'm such trash for it. :)

* * *

Abbie walked into the kitchen. Crane smiled at her as she passed him to sit on the edge of the counter. With his back toward her, he sung a song she didn't recognize. He intrigued her; she couldn't help but want to watch what he did. He chopped onions and carrots. Scooped them up to put them into the chicken and rice on the stove. He chopped more veggies, sprinkled seasoning into the pot, and stirred. It smelled amazing. He wanted to make her dinner. She let him. She wasn't completely herself yet, but getting there. She laughed, opened up a little bit more. He didn't push her. He waited, did little things for her, like the laundry, cleaning, cooking. She missed him and didn't mind him taking care of the house, taking care of her.

She enjoyed the quickness of his fingers, the movement of his back and shoulder blades beneath his shirt. She bit her lip as her eyes traveled to his butt. Nice. She crossed and swung her ankles. Crane was sexy when he cooked.

He finally faced her. "Dinner will be served shortly, Leftenant."

She nodded. "Can I taste?"

He scooped some chicken and rice on the stirring spoon. Blew it before he held it out to her.

"Careful. It may still be hot."

It was kind of spicy. "Good. Can you cut me a piece of the bread you made?"

"As you wish."

He placed the spoon on the cutting board, sliced a piece of whole wheat bread, and dipped it into the chicken and rice broth. He held it to her lips. She took half a bite. Then finished the rest, wrapping her lips around his thumb and finger.

Her legs parted, circled behind Crane's waist. He was close enough for her to pull him toward her. Her hands ran up his chest, through his hair. She kissed him while his arms circled her waist. He gripped her thighs as their tongues played together. He kissed her neck. She squeezed her legs tighter around him, moaned.

"Crane, the stove."

He sighed, hurried to switch everything off. They went back into their position. He stopped kissing her for a minute to look at her. He touched her cheek, wanting to make sure this was what she wanted right now. She hadn't been back long and still dealt with the trauma of being in the Catacombs. Was she ready for this? She was with Crane. She'd be ready for anything if he was next to her. She nodded.

"Lay down, Abbie."

When she did, he slid her pants and underwear off, got to his knees. He placed her legs around his neck and held her waist. As she felt his lips and tongue, she gasped and arched her back. Her fingernails scrapped against the counter top.


	30. Hair

A little something I wrote on Tumblr a few days ago. I posted it here if you hadn't read it. Enjoy. :)

* * *

Abbie leans her head back in the sink. Crane wets her hair with the spray nozzle and washes her curls with her honey vanilla shampoo and conditioner. His long fingers gently massage her scalp, pinpointing the right areas: the ones that itch and the ones that just want his contact. She sighs. He sings "Proud Mary" while she closes her eyes and hums with him, nearly falling asleep. His breath falls into her nose. She stops humming to breath it in. Her shoulders relax. She leans her head further in the sink. Her bones vibrate and tingle. She didn't want to leave this intimacy.

"Your hair is beautiful, Miss Mills. Thank you for permitting me to wash it," Crane said.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

She paused. "Crane?"

"Yes, Leftenant."

"Can you wash my hair next time?"

She rarely let him spoil her, since she got back from the Catacombs. This would be the only exception.

"Of course."


	31. Wine and Rain

Because we all need to see this. Like right now. Right now. Enjoy. :) Does anybody else know the song by Ashanti called "Rain on Me"? I thought of that song as I wrote this. Bits and pieces of that song reminded me of this.

* * *

"Would you like a glass of wine, Leftenant?" Crane handed it to her.

She took it, gave him a small smile. He put his own glass in the grass before he sat beside her; she pressed the rim to her bottom lip, but then she sat her glass next to Crane's.

"Would you prefer something else to drink?"

She shook her head, glanced at the cloudy sky.

"You've been sitting out here in the rain an awful lot lately."

Crane would spot Abbie sitting in the grass while it poured. He didn't go outside with her. He let her be, watched her. When the rain stopped, she's slowly walked into the house, shivered with dripping clothes and mud stains on the back of her pants. He waited for her with a towel, made her tea, and fixed her a napkin full of roasted honey almonds. After they competed in chess, she went to shower.

She stared into her wine. "The rain is coming."

He examined the clouds. "It appears so."

"When the Catabombs finally got to me, I couldn't feel anything. I get in that space sometimes, so I come out here."

"Would you like me to leave?"

She drinks her wine. "Stay."

"My presence doesn't bother you out here?"

She swallows more wine. "I feel more."

"Is it enough?"

She put her glass back in the grass. "Quite, but not quite."

"What do you need, Leftenant?"

She peeked at the sky again. "The rain is almost here."

"Abbie?"

She watched her wine again. "Kiss me."

Crane's fingers twitched. He wanted to honor her request, but he couldn't.

"Abbie,—"

She chuckled. "You and your damn propriety."

"Please, don't misunderstand me, Leftenant. I do wish to kiss you, but not in this state. I would feel as though I am taking advantage."

"I know what I'm doing, Crane." She gulped more wine.

"If you are positive."

She stood to her knees and turned to face him; he copied her. Thunder sounded. She grabbed one of his hands; he squeezed it before she let go of it. Lightening flashed. Her cheeks were soft when his hands covered them. Wind blew. They met the other's forehead and closed eyes; Crane glided his nose against hers; she sighed, let her nails play in his beard. Lips bumped. Once, twice. They stopped. Rain started to fall. Crane held her waist; Abbie staggered closer to him. She felt his breath fill and leave his chest; he felt hers. They stared and stopped breathing for a second. Then she kissed him with wildness he didn't mind and grasped his hair in palm fulls. Heavy rain spilled. His tongue knocked against hers; the wine and the fumble of her tongue drunk him. She gave his chest a slight push. He stopped kissing her; she pushed him until he lay in the grass with her on top, both legs on the side of his hips. Her hands imprinted their shape in the mud as her tongue stroked against his. He groaned; his hands squeezed the back of her thighs, her butt. She bit his lip.

"Crane."

More thunder. More wind. More rain. All of her feeling was beginning to return. His hands slid up her clingy shirt. He kissed her neck, sucked raindrops off her skin. She dug her nails in the mud. Thunder. Lightening. He stopped kissing her.

"Perhaps we shall take this inside before lightening strikes us?"

She kissed him once more before she got off him. They stood up; Abbie wiped her hands on her shirt. She tried to remove some of the dirt off Crane's coat, but he shook his head.

"Think nothing of it."

"You like this coat."

He turned to face her. She yelped when he picked her up bridal-style. "Would you like to know something, Leftenant?"

"You have mud in your hair, too." She picked at the back of his head. "Tell me."

"I want to listen to the storm and make love to a beautiful woman. I desire to observe you climax as the thunder roars above us. I want to caress you in so many places with my fingers, my teeth, my tongue, my manhood: all until you feel again, until you can't stop feeling."

"Rain on me."

He walked her into their home, leaving their wine glasses to overflow.


	32. Hair (Part 2)

nspired by the fanart from birdlovesafish. This is for you. :) She drew the art where Crane was behind Abbie, kissing her shoulder. I kind of tweaked the setting of your drawing. I hope that's okay and that you like it. Let me know. :)

* * *

"Wash my hair again?" Abbie said over her ice cream.

"Of course. I'll retrieve your shampoo and conditioner."

"In the shower."

"I'll fetch them immediately." He stood.

"That's not what I mean."

"Your hair products aren't in the shower?"

"They are. I meant…"

She knew she was crossing boudaries with this request, but it was what she wanted at the moment. He insisted on spoiling her. She'd make the most of it. He seemed to want her to.

"How can I help you, Leftenant?"

She glanced away from him, played with her spoon. "Can you wash my hair in the shower?"

He didn't answer; she looked at him. He shield his eyes and gathered their bowls. The he walked over to the sink. Abbie followed him. She laid her hand on his shoulder. He jumped, dropped a spoon.

"Forget I asked."

He turned around before she could walk away. He grabbed her hands. "I apologize if my actions implied that I was rejecting your request. I wasn't. I'm rather surprised is all. I respect your modesty and privacy that I couldn't possibly-"

"It's okay, Crane." She tried to pull away. He wouldn't let her.

"No, Leftenant. I would not mind in the slightest. Are you comfortable with this? I will only do so if you are."

"I trust you."

He nodded and led her upstairs.

* * *

Abbie ran the shower as she took off her clothes. She left the door open for Crane. He went to get towels and rags. She stepped in, rinsed her body and hair with warm water. Crane knocked on the door.

"It's okay, Crane."

She faced the water as he undressed. She didn't want to stare at him when he got in. His comfort was important to her. The shower curtain opened.

"Leftenant, you may turn around."

She bit her lip. Should she? This was new for the both of them, competely out of their comfort zones. Was this making him uncomfortable? He touched her shoulder.

"It's alright, Abbie."

Her eyes remained on his face when she turned around. Did this make him feel uneasy?

"Thank you for doing this," she said.

She made room, so he could wet himself.

"It is I would should thank you."

"You okay with this?"

He smiled at her. "I am. You?"

She nodded. "Are you ready to wash my hair?"

He grabbed her shampoo. "Whenever you are ready to proceed."

Once she turned from him, his hands went through her hair. She closed her eyes, breathed her shampoo and leaned her head into his hands. When he was done, she slightly tilted her head under the spout to rinse, kept her eyes shut. She was still afraid of violating his privacy, even though she did want to see his body.

Crane couldn't rip his eyes away from Abbie's face, her breasts, her stomach, her vagina, where he wanted to house himself, her thighs, her feet. He swallowed. Oh, how he urged to touch her, to kiss and make her moan. He simply desired to make love to her in the shower.

When she finished rinsing, her back was to him again, her eyes open. He shampooed a second time, and she closed her eyes when she rinsed.

He wanted to observe her body again, but he focused on his feet instead. He should respect her. It irked him that she didn't acknowledge him. He didn't want her to shy away from him for his sake.

She turned her back to him one last time, so he could condition her hair. She played with the water, spreading and unspreading her fingers. What was he thinking? She thought about kissing the scar on his chest, running her fingers down his wet chest and across his shoulder blades. What did the water taste like on his skin? Would she find out? She stopped thinking about it and focused on his fingers washing her curls. They were so gentle that she couldn't help but wonder how they'd feel elsewhere. She played with the water again. She stayed where she was to let the conditioner sit in her hair.

Crane's fingers ran down her back. He pushed her hair to one side and sunk his lips into her skin. Her breath hide in her throat.

"Please look at me, Abbie."

She did this time. Everywhere. His face and scar, the hair on his chest and stomach, his penis that she wanted to lock herself against, his thighs and feet.

His thumb skimmed her cheek, her lips. Neither of them broke eyes. She wanted him to kiss her, but she needed him to make the first move. He had to be comfortable enough to do it.

He removed his hand. She had to initiate their kiss. He wouldn't do it, unless she hinted at it.

"Everything about you is beautiful, Abbie: your curly hair, your face, your body. Your entire being hinders my breath."

She stepped closer to him. "Kiss me."

He leaned in to her. Her lips were moist, tasted a little like her strawberry ice cream. She moaned when their tongues flitted against each other's. Her hands touched his chest while his gently clinched her butt, bringing her closer toward him. Her arms wrapped around his neck. They stopped kissing.

"I've been wanting to touch you and more this entire time," he said.

She nodded.

"Are you sure I have your consent?" he said.

"Entirely. What about you?"

"It's more than welcome, Leftenant."

She kissed him once more before her lips found his scar and her hands squeezed his penis. He moaned while his fingers massaged the inside of her vagina. She mumbled his name. They moved their fingers at the same pace: slow. Abbie sucked drops off his neck.

"The water," she said.

He kissed her neck, pushed his fingers further. She gasped. "Going to get cold soon."

She squeezed him harder. "Yeah."

He kissed her lips. "We must stop."

She sighed against his chest. They removed their hands at the same time. Abbie grabbed their rags and soap. They quickly bathed each other and Abbie rinsed her hair. She turned the shower off. They both stepped out and dried the off. Crane carried her out the bathroom to her bed. He laid her down, kissed her hair.

"I must wash your hair in the shower again." He slipped his penis into her.

She grunted, nipped his shoulder, and wrapped her legs tighter around his waist. "Yes."


	33. Voice

I'm very proud if Abbie for reaching out to Crane. That was very brave and vulnerable of her. :)

* * *

Abbie and Crane sat on the couch in silence. She glanced at one of her plants while Crane switched the symbol in his hand. She asked him for help. It was a weight she could share with him instead of by herself now. She thought she could manage on her own, but it was impossible. She almost let him die because of her need for the symbol. That was something she never wanted to do again. He was her partner. How could she risk his life like that? She glanced at him; he traced the symbol with squinted eyes and dipped eyebrows. It clawed at her still. She shook her head, wanted to snatch it away from him. It didn't belong to him. It was hers, but she couldn't have it like she wanted. She squeezed the hem of her shirt, stared at it.

"Put it away, Crane."

He shoved it in his pocket. "My apologies. I was wondering how it-"

"Works? I know. Curious Crane."

He nodded.

"You can ask questions."

"Perhaps another time." He looked at his hands.

"Do you still trust me?"

"Our bond cannot be broken, Leftenant."

He still wouldn't face her.

"Look at me."

He didn't.

"Ichabod."

He met her eyes.

"Talk to me."

She didn't like that they were distant. He grabbed her hand, sighed.

"I do trust you, Abbie. It would be impossible for me not to."

"But?"

He shifted. She squeezed his hand.

"You won't upset me."

It would hurt her though. She never wanted to put Crane in danger.

"I do wonder if this will happen again. You are not to blame in the slightest. You were only trying to cope in the best way you could. I'm sure being isolated like you were was challenging. What were you supposed to do, Abbie? How could I hold that against you?"

"It still doesn't change the fact that I risked your life."

"It's not your fault, Abbie."

She took her hand back. He was upset with her. She wished he'd admit it.

"The truth, Crane."

He sighed again. "In all honesty, I was quite dismayed at your actions. I thought, "She is my partner. Surely, she would not leave me to die here.' I felt forgotten."

She nodded, scooted closer to him. She grabbed his hand again. "I am so sorry, Crane. I never intended—"

"I know, Leftenant. Please, don't apologize anymore. I do understand."

"You are important to me, Ichabod Crane."

"As you are to me, Grace Abigail Mills."

She released his hand and slowly brought it up to his cheek. He held it there with his own, closed his eyes. Abbie leaned up to kiss his forehead. Her lips loitered longer than they were supposed to. He opened his eyes when her lips left his skin.

"Where do we go from here?" he said.

"I want to show you something."

* * *

She removed the blanket she used to cover the carved symbol on the wall in the shed.

"Oh, Abbie," Crane said, with his mouth wide.

He looked at her; she nodded. Then she handed him her journal. He flipped through it, shook his head before he closed it.

"It's that bad," she said.

"How do you feel now?"

Her eyes flickered toward her symbol. She touched it, leaned her forehead against it. "I need it, Crane. I just do. I don't know how to shut it out. I know I should, but I don't want to. I literally can't."

He put his hand on her back. She wanted to look at him, but she couldn't. All she wanted to do was be alone with her symbol, her solace, her peace. She shouldn't have brought him here. This wasn't even his space. It was for her and her symbol. Not him. She wasn't going to share. She turned around.

"Leave."

He held the book to his chest. "Pardon?"

"I want you out."

"Leftenant—"

"Crane. Go, and give me my journal." She tried to take it out of his hands. He held it up, so she couldn't reach it. She jumped for it, still couldn't get it.

"Hand it here, Crane."

"No, Leftenant." He opened it with both his hands above his head and felt around for a page. He ripped it. Abbie dug in his pocket and snatched the symbol. Crane dropped the book, grabbed Abbie's wrist. He wasn't forceful enough to hurt, but just enough to where she couldn't get out of his grasp.

"I need you. I trust you," she said.

It was scary watching Abbie this way. He's never seen her so possessive or out of control of her actions. How was he supposed to reach her? He let her wrists go as she praised the object. She wouldn't look at him. He held her closer to him; her hands rested on his chest while she held it. She spoke fast.

"Abbie?"

"I trust you. I trust you. You make me happy. My peace."

"Abbie? I'm not sure if you can hear me, but you have to let it go. You have people who need, Abbie: Miss Jenny, Mr. Corbin, the people of Sleepy Hollow. I need you." He rubbed her back, kissed her forehead.

She still wasn't listening. This time she whispered to the symbol. "My hope. My peace."

He placed his mouth next her ear; her curls tickled his check. "Remember our bond, Abbie. My soul clinged to your voice in the Catacombs. It is now time for your soul to cleave to mine. I was in the darkness, lost until I heard you. Please, Leftenant, find the strength in you to grip my voice, our bond."

She still whispered to the symbol, things Crane didn't quite catch or understand. Her voice slowed down though. Crane licked his lips.

"You are almost here, Leftenant. You are close to being pulled out. Hold on to our bond and what it means. It represents love, courage, bravery. Summon all the times were by each other's side. We fought together, laughed together. My soul needs you."

Her words were one syllable with long pauses between them. "Peace. Trust. Joy."

"I love you, Grace Abigail Mills."

Silence now.

He peeked down at her. "Abbie?"

"Crane?"

"How do you feel?"

"I don't hear it anymore." She played with the symbol.

"At all?"

She nodded. "Nothing."

"Are you positive?"

She switched it in bother hands, put it to her chest. "There is nothing."

He held her cheeks, kissed her forehead, and hugged her to him. Her arms circled his waist.

"I don't know how, but my soul heard your voice."

He smiled above her head.

"Our fates are forever entwined, even in our darkest moments."

She dropped the symbol. "I love you, too."


	34. Tea and Coffee

A few people mentioned this in the Ichabbie tag. I don't think anyone has written it yet, so here you go. :) Hope this brightens your night. :) Can someone please continue this? Would love to see what someone else writes next. It doesn't have to be this long. Hopefully, this is a good setup for a continuation. Let me know.

* * *

"Don't stay up too late, Crane," Abbie said by the stairs.

He nodded.

"Thanks again."

"You are my partner. I will always protect you."

She smiled at him. "I'd stay up and figure that thing out with you, but I'm tired. Tell me about it in the morning?"

"I most definitely will."

"Night."

"Good night, Leftenant," he said.

She went upstairs. He rushed to her study with the tablet. He wanted to discover how else it worked with the attached symbols. Earlier, he caught snippets and physically sensed Abbie in trouble when touched it. He observed a demon attack her. Immediately, he helped. His partner was far too important to him. Now that she was safe, he wondered what else it would allow him to envision. Did it tell their future? Could he see other people? Would it show him what he or Abbie was currently doing?

He paced in her study. The tablet sat on her desk; the symbols resided in the back of it. He eyed it with his hands behind him. Should he touch it again? What would he see? Abbie was getting ready for bed. He figured he would wait ten minutes to give her time to undress. He wouldn't use this tablet to invade her privacy.

After the time on his phone hit ten minutes, he rolled up his sleeves, breathed deep. He touched it. His eyes widened as he saw Abbie in her bathtub with shut eyes. Bubbles covered her chest, left her collar bone exposed; she hummed. He snatched his hands away. Wasn't she supposed to be sleeping? His fingers twitched. At least one of his questions was answered. Was there a time limit? What were the impacts of utilizing this method too long?

Part of him wanted to answers to these questions, but the other part of him wanted to just observe Abbie in her moment of peace. Nothing bothered her. She didn't have any worries when he saw her in the tub. This was wrong though. He shouldn't spy on his partner like this, but he had to see.

He sighed before he placed his fingers over the symbols. He saw her again. Her parted knees poked out from the bubbles. One of her hands hid under the water while the other gripped the rim of the tub. He heard her moan and sigh, smelled her almond vanilla bubbles. His skin felt wet and warm. His penis tingled. Was it because of what she felt or him? If he were honest, it was both. He watched her sink deeper until the water was at her neck. She bit her lip, whimpered.

"Crane."

His eyes widened. He shouldn't be watching her like this. It was highly inappropriate. They were partners. He'd never do this to his partner, but he couldn't take his hands away, didn't want to. She was beautiful, and he wished he were there to give her the sexual pleasure she deserved. He was saddened by the thought that he couldn't fulfill her desire and fantasies. He wanted her, too. She moaned again, a bit louder. Nails scratched the rim of the tub, then stopped. She opened her eyes and sighed. Her climax was complete.

"Damn, Crane. Damn." She grabbed her loofa, lathered it with body wash.

He moved his hands, quickly took the symbols out of the tablet. He aired himself with his shirt. Shutting the tablet and putting the symbols on top of it, he left her study.

* * *

Crane sat at the table with his mug of tea. How was he supposed to sleep after what he saw? Would he tell Abbie? What would she think? He did the very thing he said he wouldn't do. Perhaps, he wouldn't tell her. Keeping secrets from her was the last thing he wanted, but he'd do it this once. He couldn't embarrass her by admitting that he saw her in one of her most intimate moments. He was helping her.

As he sipped, he heard her come downstairs. Wasn't she supposed to be sleep? She smiled at him when she walked in the kitchen.

"Any more left?" She pointed to the kettle on the stove.

He nodded; his fingers twitched.

"Couldn't sleep." She got a mug and poured herself a cup. Next, she sat in the chair across from him. "Find anything?"

What should he say? The truth or a lie? He drank.

"Crane?"

"My apologies, Leftenant."

"What'd you find?" She sipped hers.

"It does show us in the present moment."

Her eyebrows lifted. She put her mug down. "What exactly did you see?"

He shifted. "I saw you remove your coat and shoes in your room."

"That's all?"

"That is all, Leftenant." He got up to pour his tea in the sink.

"Not gonna finish it?"

"No. I think I'll head to bed. Good night, Leftenant." He smiled at her before he excused himself.

* * *

Abbie stared into her mug. Crane didn't seem right. He always drank all of his tea. Plus, it wasn't like him to shy away from her when he discovered something new. He normally talked her ear off. What was he hiding? With her tea, she left the kitchen for her study. It was the only place he went when he studied a subject.

She put her mug by the tablet. He told her how to open it and place the symbols in it in the car. He was really excited about it. What changed? When she had it set up, her hands covered both symbols. She saw Crane on the edge of his bed. He wore blue boxers and socks. No shirt. One of his hands was in his underwear; the other held his comforter. His eyes were closed; his mouth was open. She saw him move his hand back and forth in his underpants. As he groaned, a tingle settled in her vagina. She was aroused and slightly cool from the vent that blew above him.

Why was she watching this? He needed his privacy. This was private. And why was she aroused? She couldn't tell if it was because of him or her. It was probably both. Is this what he saw on accident like her? She was not expecting to observe Crane get himself off. She definitely didn't think he'd watch her do the same. Knowing Crane, it had to be an accident. He probably couldn't take his eyes away, just like she couldn't right now. It wasn't right for her to do this to him, but it was kind of hot. She wished she could have been the one to stroke him.

She saw his head tilt back.

"Abbie." His eyes squeezed tighter; his hand dug into the comforter. He panted when he removed his hand. "Oh, Abbie."

Crane took a deep breath before he stood to walk to his drawer. He shuffled through clothes for his pajamas. She removed her hands. Swallowing, she smoothed her hair down, breathed deep as she put the tablet how Crane had it. She took her tea and exited her study. She wasn't telling him damn a thing.

* * *

Abbie sat at the island with a cup of coffee. Crane smiled at her when he walked in. He fixed himself a cup, sat down across from her.

"Good morning," he said. "How did you sleep?"

"Good. You?"

She lied. She tossed and turned all night. The bags under his eyes told her he did the same. She felt guilty for what she did. Her lips were sealed though. They didn't lie to each other. This would be an exception. He'd be humiliated and probably mad if she told him what she saw. She wasn't going to do that to him. Some things had to be taken to her grave. This was for him.

"Good. Thank you for asking."

She sat her mug down. "I played around with the tablet after you left."

He put his down. "You did? What flashed before your eyes, Leftenant?"

She bit her lip. "You were asleep in bed."

"That's all?"

"Yup." She glanced away from him.

They were both silent, busy with their own cups until they spoke the other's name at the same time. Abbie wanted to tell him the truth.

"You go first, Leftenant."

She stared at him. Should she really? Was she even ready to talk about her feelings for him and tell him what she saw?

"Want another cup when you're done?" She stood to fix more coffee.

"That would be wonderful."

"What were you going to say?"

"I was going to ask the same thing."

She nodded as she watched the coffee drip into the pot.


	35. Bucket List

Something naughty. Beware. :)

* * *

Abbie and Crane found two seats on a back row that was completely empty. Three or four people sat near the front of the theater, but that was it. That was the crowd.

"Wasn't this film released last month, Leftenant?" Crane sipped his soda as movie advertisements and behind the scenes clips of upcoming films played.

"Yeah." Abbie ate some popcorn. "Which is why this month is best to see it. No crowd."

"Isn't it more exciting viewing with lots of people? You once told me that fans have watch parties for television shows like 'Scandal' and 'How to Get Away with Murder.' Doesn't the same apply for moving pictures?" His eyes met hers.

"It does, but I prefer coming to the movies when there are less people."

"What about the giddyness or spontaneity? You get to react with others and gush about the film afterwards."

Abbie didn't know why this was such a big deal to Crane. It was just a movie.

"What's this really about?" She squeezed his hand.

He sighed. "I don't know. Perhaps I want you to enjoy every moment possible while you still have the opportunity. As you know, our lives are not guaranteed. You deserve to be happy and have fun while you can, even if that means crossing items off your bucket list, as you call it."

She laughed. "I see your point. You know I want the same for you. What's on your bucket list?"

"I don't have one."

She lowered her eyebrows, chuckled. "There has to be something you want to do before you die. Again. I would love to go on a trip to an island or maybe go scubba diving, swim with sharks. You have to have at least one thing."

"Swimming with sharks would be the last adventure I put on it. That sounds rather ridiculous and dangerous."

She chewed more popcorn. "Yeah, well, life on the edge. But come on. One thing. I'll give you a moment to think."

"You're quite persistent, aren't you?" He smirked at her.

She kissed his cheek. "I'll wait."

His eyes flicked to the screen.

"It can be as boring or spontaneous as you want. It's yours, something for you."

He nodded. She snacked on more popcorn, waited for him to snap his fingers and turn to her with wide eyes.  
He didn't. He shook off his coat, stood in front of her. She strained her neck to see the screen around him.

"Move, Crane. What are you doing?"  
She put the popcorn in the chair next to her.

He bent to his knees. His fingers snuck up her thighs. He kissed her knee.

"What the hell are you doing?"

He unbuttoned her pants. "I'm mentally crossing this off my bucket list."

The lights dimmed. A trailer with a loud explosion filled her ears. She bit her lip as he unzipped her pants. His hands stopped around her waist.

"Would you mind permitting me to fulfill this one wish off my list?"

She lifted herself up, tugged on her pants and underwear. She scooted to the edge of her seat. He spread her legs as far as her pants around her ankles would allow. Another trailer played. It had slow dance music. Abbie leaned back, gasped once his mouth found her clit.

"Crane, maybe we shouldn't-ah." She covered her mouth with one hand while the other clenched the armchair. How was she not supposed to mutter cuss words when his tongue licked, his lips sucked, and his beard softly scrapped her sensitive folds.

"Damn it, Crane."

He chuckled; she locked her hands around the arm tighter. Shit. She pushed herself against him, but his hands held her waist. Oh, he really wanted to tease her.

"You little fucker." She quietly moaned when he sucked harder.

She wasn't even paying attention to the trailers. They sped by. She did hear them though: laughter, a scream, crying, a door slammed, a car started. Her focus was on the black ceiling above her. He stuck his tongue deeper, nudged it a bit harder, quicker. He tried to reach places she hadn't even thought possible. All of this wanted to make her scream. Luckily, no one paid them any mind.

She pushed him further into her. What was he trying to do to her? Her eyes shut. His tongue was magnificent. When she opened her eyes, she saw a couple walk in. They glanced at the chairs in front of the theater. Then they looked toward the back. They walked up the stairs. She tapped Crane's shoulder.

"Hurry up. A couple."

She wanted this to last longer. That damn couple ruined all the fun. He softly nipped her clit. She came as he removed his lips. Her breath paused in her belly; he shimmied her pants and underwear up as she throbbed and lifted herself again. The couple was almost at the top. He buttoned and zipped her pants. She thought she'd come again when she sat up in her seat. The couple halted at the top of the stairs when they saw Crane plop in his seat beside her. Abbie smiled at them. They smiled back, turned around, and went back downstairs. Crane laughed beside her.

"Fuck your bucket list." She reached for him through his pants, tightened her fingers around him. He grunted, pushed himself toward her.

He put his lips to her ear. "Fuck me instead, Leftenant."

She got to her knees


	36. Bucket List (Part 2)

Is this good? I think I said "and" too much. Lol Anyway, hope you like. :)

* * *

On her knees, Abbie unbuttoned and unzipped his pants. She pulled them, including his underwear down to his ankles. He slouched in his seat.

"Eager much?" She rubbed the inside of his thigh.

He bit his lip. "You are going to torture me, aren't you?"

"You like that shit, don't you?" She kissed his penis: the tip, the middle, the top.

He smirked. "Indeed."

She gently bit his tip twice before she caressed it with her tongue and sucked. He released a quiet grunt. She slid more of him into her mouth until she had him half-way. She nipped, licked, and sucked all the way down. Then she kissed his penis, finally captured all of him. Crane gripped the arms of his chair, scratched them. Her tongue flicked a little quicker, her teeth bit a little harder, her lips puckered a little more around him. He groaned and squirmed, but stopped when she rubbed her hands up his calves. She slowed down. Licked him, then bit, sucked, licked, bit. He gasped. She sucked him one last time before she moved her lips. After she bit his tip again, he came. She created a little extra space when he ejaculated.

"Fuck, Abbie." He breathed deep.

She smirked at him. "You're going to need napkin."

They glanced at each other for a moment. Then they laughed as he passed her a napkin. He had one, too, and helped to clean himself, the floor, and parts of his pants. His coat would cover the stains. They pulled his pants and underwear up together. She leaned up to kiss him.

"Thank you for loving me, Abbie, even in a theater."

"You're welcome." She buttoned, zipped his pants. "And thank you."

She'd make love to him anywhere. He'd do the same for her. They loved each other. Every part. Simple as that.

He took her napkin and helped her up. "Shall we go wash our hands?"

"We might want to."

He chuckled and kissed her temple. They left.

* * *

When Abbie finished, she walked into the men's room. Crane's eyes widened as he dried his hands with a paper towel. She snatched his napkin from him, threw it in the trash, and dragged him into a stall. She locked them in.

"What are you—?"

She kissed him. Her tongue darted in his mouth. He clasped her butt, caused her to moan. She unfastened her pants again. Grabbing one of his hands, she shoved his fingers in her underwear. She sighed against mouth when he hit the right spot.

"We're fulfilling a wish on my bucket list," she said, grasping him through his pants.


	37. Rum and Tea

Something sweet. :)

* * *

Abbie stepped on her front porch. She carried a cup of tea. He smiled at her when she bumped his elbow and motioned to the cup.

"Good evening, Leftenant."

She sat it on the banister. "Hey, Crane."

He picked it up, blew before he sipped. "Rum?"

She nodded and took the mug from him to taste it herself. "We could use it."

"I couldn't agree with you more."

"Were you scared?" Her finger traced the spot where his lips were.

She was scared. She didn't know if The Hidden One would've tortured Crane or killed him or both. When she finally saw him, relief drowned her. They shared a quick hug and fist bump, but she needed them really process what could've happened.

"I was worried about you, Abbie."

"But were you scared?"

"As I expressed to The Hidden One, I am not afraid of death. The only thing I am terrified of is losing you."

Crane told her what The Hidden One said to him about their Witness lineage. She had a feeling he held back something though.

"Was there more?"

"He threatened to kill you, to torment you until your death. He wanted to watch you suffer." He slid the mug from her to drink. "That frightens me more than I can say."

She put her hand on his back. What could she say to him? Words wouldn't be enough for comfort. She stood behind him, imprinted her hands in his shoulder blades. She laid her head between them while she wrapped her arms around his waist. He tangled their fingers, tightened her grip around him. She sighed. He kissed her fingers.

"You mean so very much to me, Grace Abigail Mills. I'm the man I am today because of you."

He always could say things to create that warmth in her cheeks and that vibration in her chest. He meant a lot to her, too. She just didn't know how to say it, so she held him.

"You've changed me, too." She held him from the side now.

He lifted his arm over her. His arms wrapped her in him. Her head fell on his chest, and she glanced at him. His hand found her cheek; his finger skimmed her lips. His forehead leaned toward hers. As their lips nuzzled the other's, Abbie felt that warmth and vibration again. She put space between them.

"You want to finish the rest if the tea? It's still warm."

"No. Thank you though. You should finish it, Leftenant. I hope to seek warmth elsewhere." He held her stare, then looked into the front yard.

Abbie touched her lips, gazed into a tree. She didn't kiss him because she wasn't ready to. It would mean admitting she loved him. Knowing he could die at any second prevented her from falling further down the hole of her emotions for him. She didn't want him to give her all his love, only to have it snatched by the seven years of tribulation. She never wanted to rid herself of him. If she got too close, his death would wreck her. Distance was safe. However, she knew she couldn't deny him for long. The closer he got to death, the closer she wanted to shove her love to him.

"Maybe that warmth will come to you soon."

"Only time will tell."

"Yeah."

They both watched the steam from their shared mug, with Abbie pondering how well rum and tea would suite his lips and tongue.


	38. Blue Coat

Because this photo inspired me and I had to do it. Have no idea what's happening in this scene, so I'm making stuff up. :)

* * *

Abbie stands in front of her laptop, typing. She stops when Crane clears his throat beside her. She looks at him and turns. He doesn't smile, doesn't lift his eyebrow, doesn't flex his fingers to straighten his big, blue military coat. It's too late to shield her eyes.

"Crane—"

"There is no other choice, Leftenant. The Hidden One demands I return Pandora safely into his care. If he doesn't receive his other half by tonight, the world will fall into his clutches. You and I both know that can't happen."

"How many times do I have to tell you there's always another way?"

"I'm afraid this is the only way," he said.

Her eyes hit his coat. She reaches for his lapels. Her fingers try to recollect what it feels like, what he feels like, should something happen to him. She holds his other lapel, tugs him nearer to her.

"Crane—"

"The is the only way, Leftenant." He holds her waist.

Her forehead settles on his chest. He kisses her curls.

"For as long as I draw breath, I shall return to you."

She prays Crane would be alright going to The Hidden One alone. He specifically asked for him. Her spine vibrates and her chest hums. She shakes it out.

"If anything happens—"

"Abbie."

She sighs. "Positive thoughts. Okay."

He begins to pull away, but she clings to his lapels. His eyebrows sink to his eyes.

"Just…" She takes a deep breath. Her tiptoes give her a little more height to kiss his lips. She pecks them first. A few centimeters huddle between them when she parts. She waits for him to speak. He doesn't, so this invites her to give him a little bit more. Her lips taste his a bit quicker. He presses her body closer while she pokes her tongue in his mouth. He moans as their tongues grope for the other's. She drags her lips away.

"Come back to me."

"You have my word."

He walks away, and she rubs her hands together, trying to remember the softness and graininess of his coat.


	39. Partners

Something I wrote before the episode.

* * *

"My name is Ichabod Crane. Pleased to meet your acquaintance." He sticks out his hand for Ezra Mills, Abbie and Jenny's father.

Ezra shakes it, smiles. "The pleasure's all mine."

Crane wasn't expecting for company. He and the Leftenant planned to munch on burgers and watch Netflix. But here he was, barging and bellowing into Abbie's home about over-priced, yet phenomenal burgers. How did he appear to Mr. Mills? He stands behind the island. His fingers twitch while he glances at Abbie. She isn't on the best terms with her father, he knew. How was she faring? How much does he know about their Witness duties?

"Stop wiggling your fingers. Calm down. He's found a way to help us defeat The Hidden One." Abbie says.

"He knows about…?"

"Yeah. All of it." She walks over to him with a small book, sets it in front of him, and opens it to the bookmarked page. "There's information in here about the symbol and how else it can be used. I haven't read through it all, but it has some pretty good stuff."

Crane leans in closer to Abbie, his arm pressing into hers. He points at a paragraph with his index finger. Hers moves along with his across the page, brushing his finger in the process. "It says we can manifest it's full power. We will definitely have to read up on that."

They meet each other's eyes at the same time.

"You think this will help?"

"If it is in the right hands, it can only be used for good. I believe it will, Leftenant."

"What if it backfires and all that power is too much for us to handle? What then? We have no idea what we're getting into, Crane."

"You pose a good point." He sighs. "With this resoucre at our fingertips, there has to be a way to contain it."

She touches the button on the cuff of his coat instead of look at him.

His voice lowers. "Do not worry, Leftenant. With each other, we shall unravel this mystery together."

Her hand rests on his arm; she nods. He takes her hand in both of his and squeezes it. His thumbs rub her palm before he lets go.

She looks to Jenny and Ezra to ask how they should go about handling the symbol when they figure out how else it works, but she doesn't voice her question. Her eyes shifts between her sister and Ezra. Jenny smirks and puts her coffee mug to her lips. Avoids her eyes. Ezra folds his arms, smiles at the floor.

"What?"

"Nothing." Jenny peeks at her, then away again. They were so in love with each other, it was ridiculous. How could they not know? How could they ignore it?

"You two just seem close," Ezra said. "Intimate."

He and Lori didn't even have as deep a connection as he observes with his daughter and her…partner Ichabod Crane. They don't seem to mind intruding the other's personal space. Crane speaks to Abbie like she is his only concern. He listens to her. Abbie seems to push him, to make him think, but in the right way. He know her, and she knows him. They work well together. He thinks he should have left the room. They appeared to need their privacy. It is nice to watch them so in love and in tune. Although not on their level, he missed that about him and Lori.

"We're partners. We have to have a good relationship, since we have to save the world." Abbie takes the book and closes it.

"Of course." He cannot stop smiling. "Soon you two will realize."

Abbie's eyes shoot to Crane's. He's as dumbfounded as she is. He shrugs.

She looks back at Ezra. "We're partners."

Her eyes make their way to Crane's again. He nods at her.

"Partners," he says.

They gaze at each other for a few short seconds, but glance away. They both know Ezra is right.


	40. Oak Leaves

A random love scene for you all to say thanks for reading my work. :) It's not the best one, but I still really like it. I didn't want it to be too long. Just short, sweet, and intimate. Also, why is Crane living Abbie in the first place? I think behind the scenes, the crew or TPTB probably couldn't find a location for the cabin in Georgia, but within the show itself, why is he living with her? Lol His cabin was perfectly fine.

* * *

Abbie lay on her stomach on a blanket. She relaxed under an oak tree, entirely naked; her head rested on her hands. Crane didn't have on his clothes either. They discarded them in a pile. He sat on his knees next to her. He watched the sun shadow oak leaves on her back as he touched her skin.

"I miss you," he said.

"I miss you, too."

They hardly had any free time together dealing with the Apocalypse, especially for intimate moments like this. He kissed the birth mark on your shoulder. She shivered when his lips and beard skimmed her back, her butt cheeks, the backs of her thighs, her calves, and the heels of her feet. She giggled and flipped over. Her opened legs and bent knees welcomed him.

"What else do you miss?" she said.

"When your eyes rapidly blink as I completely fill you." He swaddled himself into her.

Her eyes fluttered, her back arched, her legs clenched his waist, and her breath shortened itself. "What else?"

"Your response as I climb deeper into you." He dug into her.

She gasped. Stuck her nails into the middle of his back.

"What do you miss about me?" he said.

"When you say, 'I love you,' in different languages." She kissed his lips. "I just miss you, Ichabod."

He kissed her neck, whispered in Italian. He sunk further into her again. She moaned, soaked in the supply of the full love he pressed into her. With wide eyes, she focused on the shaking oak leaves above her as she climaxed.


	41. Rum

Crane being petty towards Danny. Because he would totally do something this. Lol

* * *

While he studies his text, Crane peeks at Abbie trying to reach a book on the shelf. He is about to assist her when Danny Reynolds gets out of his seat. He positions behind her, grabs the book, hands it to her. She thanks him. He nods, makes some kind of remember-when comment about their time in FBI training. Abbie giggles and pats his chest. Crane puts his book down, excuses himself to the mini bar in the archives.

He pours himself a small bit of his favorite rum. Abbie bought another bottle for him. Only they share it. She walks over, hands in her blazer pockets.

"Taking a break?" Abbie says.

"I could use one at the moment."

He takes another glass, pours her some. She sips and holds her glass to her chest. He stares into his.

"We'll get The Hidden One, Crane. I think we have a good team."

She glances at everyone working. So does he.

"Mr. Reynolds seems to be quite comfortable here."

Abbie's eyes focus in her glass. "He's adjusting."

"I'm quite aware," he says. "He's very helpful to you."

He drinks. She puts hers down, steps closer to him. They almost touch chests.

"Crane, don't do that."

He places his down, too. "Do what, Leftenant?"

They stare at each other, knowing what his behavior implies.

"I need you more," she says.

Crane's eyes glance at the floor. "I need-"

"Mind if I have a drink?" Danny says.

Crane steps away from Abbie. He goes behind the bar.

"Sure," Abbie says. She clears her throat.

Crane finds another bottle of rum and pours Danny a glass. When he hands it to him, Danny looks in it. He picks up Crane's favorite and half-full bottle. He glances at Crane.

"Can I have some of this instead? This is a good brand."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Reynolds, but it was a gift, and I do not share it with many people. No offense to you, of course. As I am not close or intimate with you, I do not feel it is appropriate to share. Perhaps you can purchase your own or feel free to chose another selection. There are plenty more."

Abbie shakes her head at him, guzzles the rest of her drink to hide a smile.

Danny's lips form a thin line as he nods, giving Crane a slight glare. He takes his rum and swallows, slams it on the bar.

"None taken."

Abbie puts her hand on Danny's arm. "Could you go find that map?"

He nods and smiles small. His eyes shoot to Crane's before he walks off. Abbie turns to Crane.

"What was that?"

"What was what, Leftenant?"

"Crane."

"Those are the true words from my lips." He pours her another glass of their rum, hands it to her. She holds onto to her glass to touch his fingers. Hers are on top.

She pauses. "I meant what I said, too."

"I know. However, it is I who needs you the most."

She smiles at him. "Thanks for not sharing."

"What's ours is ours, Leftenant, and no one esle's."

She nods, takes her glass from him, and walks away.


	42. Rum (Part 2)

Part 2 to Crane's pettiness. Lol I don't know the guy Danny was talking to on the phone. I made it up. Lol

* * *

Danny's phone rings. He leaves the table and steps outside the archives. Abbie glances back at him, then at her book. Crane peeks at Abbie. He knows what she's thinking because he's thinking it, too. Why did Daniel Reynolds have to excuse himself? Why couldn't his conversation take place in their presence? Crane and Abbie bump eyes.

Reynolds re-enters. He's at the table beside Abbie.

"Work?" Abbie says.

"Something like that." Danny switches the map to another position.

"Who was that?"

"An important person, Abs. Has a lot of power." He's not looking at her.

"In the FBI?"

"I think we have work to do," he says.

Abbie stands up. His eyes meet hers. He sighs, follows her outside. Crane watches them. He knows a fight is about to ensue. Two things Abbie values are trust and honesty. Danny does not acquire either one of those qualities. He wants to be a fly on the wall.

* * *

Abbie leans against the door, arms crossed.

"Who was that, Danny?"

"Can you drop it, Abs?"

Drop it? She told him about the Apocalypse and demons and being Witnesses. She let him in and expects him to do the same.

"The truth."

He chuckles, shakes his head. "Typical Abbie. You won't tell me shit, but you want answers from me."

She steps to him. "I told you everything."

What else does he want from her? What else could she tell him that he didn't know?

"And Crane?"

"What about Crane? Why the hell are you so threatened by him?"

"Do you love him?"

Abbie blinks a few times; she focuses on the dark tunnel. "That doesn't answer my earlier question. Who were you speaking to on the phone?"

"You two at the bar. That wasn't just friends."

"My feelings for Crane are none of your damn business, Reynolds."

Her and Crane are friends. They are partners. Close. Yes, she does love him. She's not in love with him though.

He creates an inch of space between them now. "Mills, if you're going to be committed to me, I need to 100% know about you and this guy. You didn't even mention him during our time at the cabin when I asked about him."

She walks around him. "You asked me if there was guy waiting for me back home. There wasn't. That was the truth."

Why is he hiding? They are supposed to be talking about his sketchy phone conversation.

"Did you want it to be him?"

Her foot thumps against the ground.

"Crane has nothing to do with our relationship, Danny."

"Bullshit. He has everything to do with it."

She paces in front of him, breathes in the dust and mold to calm herself.

"There is nothing romantic between me and Crane."

"From the outside looking in, he's your number one. There's no room for anyone else."

Crane is important to her. She needs him, but he's not her number one. She stops moving.

"I love my sister more."

"Not like you love him."

She crosses her arms. Who the hell does he think he is telling her about how she loves her sister and Crane? She loves them equally.

"Excuse me?"

"You love him just a little bit more."

Her eyes search down the dark tunnel for an excuse. She tries to speak, but she can't. Why is she lying to herself? He's right.

"You don't look at me like him, Mills. You don't talk to me like that."

She looks at him. He's near tears, and she blinks her own back. The last thing she wants is to hurt him, but he's hurt her, too. He's keeping secrets, he's too demanding of her, and he won't ever accept Crane, who's a huge part of her life. She can't be with someone like that, even though she wanted to try with Danny, wanted some kind of normalcy.

He walks to her, places his hand on her check. "We're better off as co-workers, Mills."

He wipes his face, gathers himself. Abbie feels everything: sad, hurt, but most of all relief. Danny is right. She wanted to feel what she feels for Crane with him, but it isn't there. It wasn't there from the start. Not even close. She nods.

"This doesn't make up for it, but I was speaking to Carl Norman. He's been wanting me to keep an eye on you since you started in the FBI. I never knew why until you told me about all this monster stuff. It made sense then. I lied and told him I didn't have eyes on you anymore. I didn't know what you were up to. He's not gonna let it go though. He's trying to destroy what you and Crane are trying to do. That's not gonna happen though."

She is still upset at him for keeping this from her for so long. But she's glad to know. That's important information. "Thanks, Reynolds."

"I still have your back, Mills." He kisses her cheek. "We had a fun time."

He walks back inside; she watches him close the door and lets the dark tunnels soothe her.

* * *

Crane hears someone walk in. He turns around, expecting Abbie. It is Daniel Reynolds, who sits down beside him. Crane didn't hear everything, but he did hear his name once or twice. Reynolds' eyes are red. Has he been crying? How bad was the fight? Where is Abbie?

Reynolds searches around for his map. "Do you know what happened to my map?"

"I returned it to its proper place. I was under the assumption that you had left. My apologies."

"Where did you put it?"

"Unfortunately, I can't fetch it for you now, Mr. Reynolds. I have to check on the Leftenant. Would one of you assist him in the mean time?" Crane glances at Joe, Jenny, and Pandora.

"I'll get it," Jenny says, smirking. "Go find Abbie."

"Thank you, Miss Jenny."

Mr. Reynolds shakes his head at him. "You just love to get under my skin, don't you?"

"Oh, with great enthusiasm." He smirks and exits.

* * *

He finds Abbie leaning against the wall. Her head tilts up. He joins her. Her eyes look red, too.

"I'm okay, Crane."

"Always ever so brave, Miss Mills."

She chuckles. "You know me so well."

"I couldn't help but overhear bits and pieces of your heated discussion—"

"Crane, say it."

"I heard my name a few times. I hope I am not the cause of a rift between you two."

Crane doesn't want that. He doesn't want to ruin Abbie's chance at being happy.

"He thinks I love you, that I'm in love with you."

He doesn't know what to say to that. He wasn't even expecting for Abbie's openness about this so soon. Was she in love with him? He can't deny it any longer; he is in love with her. He doesn't want her to with Mr. Reynolds in the slightest.

"Is he correct in his assumption?"

They look at each other. Breathing the dust and mold becomes too much. His gaze is too much. She knows he wants the answer; she'll give it to him because she wants him to know. She stands in front of him, runs her hands up his chest, grabs his labels.

"Kiss me, Crane."

He can't stop himself. His lips thirst for hers, his tongue quickly thrusts into her mouth. The rum she had earlier still lingers. He wants to taste it across her body. He gently spins her, so she's against the wall. Her arms circle around him. He picks her up; her legs round his waist. She moans as he grips her thighs. He kisses her neck. She wants his breathe, mouth, tongue, and hands everywhere. Not now though. They can only do so much at the moment. She's content with this.

"He's right," she says, panting.

He pecks her nose. "I love you most."


	43. The Bird and the Flower

For otps-are-my-jam and everyone else who's a mess because of this show. Hope this makes up for it. And who knows? Let's hope something like what I wrote will happen. It'd just feel really random to put Crane and Betsy together. Odd. He's a different person now. It'd be like what he had with Katrina. Out of place. Even when Crane and Betsy knew each other in the past, their relationship just didn't seem as close. He wasn't even interested in her like that, it seemed. Plus, their relationship just isn't as deep as Ichabbie's. Period. I have a feeling Crane and Betsy won't be together. We'll see though. Anyway, enjoy. :)

* * *

"How are you feeling?" Abbie said.

She and Crane stood on the opposite side of the circular room. It was as much privacy as Abbie could find for them in the room with Betsy. She knew this was difficult for him.

He sighed. "My words are getting farther and farther away. It's unfathomable that she's even here, Leftenant. I'm amazed and relieved. So many questions swim in my mind. I don't know where to start. It's overwhelming to say the least."

She put her hand on his chest, nodded. "This is a lot to take in. Someone you thought you'd never see again is standing right before you. That's unnerving for anyone."

"Indeed." He grabbed her hand. "However, your presence is most comforting and soothing in this moment. It's the only solace that's keeping me grounded."

She nods again. "Yeah, yours, too. One step at a time, Crane, as you remind me."

"One step at a time, Leftenant."

Her hand rested on his cheek. He closed his eyes and covered it with his. When he opened them, she smiled at him. He returned it.

"Thank you, Abbie."

"Anytime, Crane."

The turn back to Betsy, who stared at them with a tilted head and eyes that seemed to daydream.

* * *

She watched them when they thought she wasn't. She pretended to busy herself with finding a way out. Of course, she listened and observed them. She wasn't expecting for them to catch her though. She was off her game, but they interested her. There was something about them together when she saw them find a private area. When Abbie spoke to Ichabod, and he spoke to her, she knew their relationship was intimate. Abbie seemed to be the logical one while Crane seemed to be all over the place at the moment. Their roles must switch often when something traumatic happened and when one needed the other.

She remembered telling Crane that someday a woman would make him lose all his manners. That woman was right in front of her. Abbie. She was the one. It saddened Betsy and made her a little jealous that she didn't have that with him and won't, but those two together felt right. She loved Ichabod, would never deny his happiness, even if it wasn't with her. Silly man was in love. Abbie and Ichabod were in love with each other. Neither of them saw it though. What a shame. How could they not see what she saw?

"Betsy, are you well?" Crane said.

"Yeah, you look a little gone," Abbie said.

Betsy shook her head. "You'll have to excuse me. It's been a while since I've seen people. I'm just trying to readjust."

Abbie nods. "I can understand. Been there myself. In here actually. Well, not here, but another part of the Catacombs."

Her and Crane shared a glance.

"Do tell."

"It's a long story, but I sacrificed myself for my sister and ended up here for about a year. Time moves differently here, so it wasn't technically a year. Anyway, lost my mind for a bit until Crane helped me find a way out. Your cutlass proved useful. Thanks."

She was brave with a mission. Betsy liked her already.

"What did you do in the meantime?"

"I created a way to keep time and explored the area. I charted everything on a cave wall."

She was resourceful, too. It was hard to ignore the fact that she was also quite lovely. Her curly hair, her light brown eyes, her lips. She was indeed ever beautiful.

"What's your occupation, Miss Mills?"

"A Federal Bureau of Investigations agent—the FBI. I catch bad guys and put them in jail."

Betsy liked that she even saved people outside of her duty as a Witness. She had a true calling. Abbie was small, but Betsy knew she challenged Crane in the best ways. She's probably made him re-evaluate himself in a way he hadn't before. She figured Abbie stepped on his ego a few times, too, which Ichabod needed. He was cocky when he wanted to be. She wondered about their relationship.

"Has Crane ever told you the story of the bird and the flower? General Washington told it to us once or twice. Remember, Ichabod?"

She saw his cheeks turn red; he blushed at the floor. She chuckled.

"It must have slipped my mind, Betsy." He cleared his throat.

Abbie's eyebrows rose as she stared at Crane. "Mr. Eidetic Memory talks my head off with ever other tale and person from his time period, yet he doesn't tell me this." She shook her head. "I thought I heard it all. I'm disappointed. What's the story, Captain?"

"Perhaps, Ms. Ross can explain. Betsy?"

Abbie looked at her, waited.

"There was once a bird and a flower, two different creatures, two different lifestyles and ways of living, yet in sync. One couldn't be without the other. The flower provided for the bird just as the bird provided for the flower. They gave each other what they needed to survive. When they first met, the bird was distant, kept her space. The flower remained there, always open, and waited for the bird to come. He was patient with her. The flower sometimes gave too much though and thought of others before himself. The bird could be quite stubborn.

"They taught each other. The bird learned that it was okay to open up and love; the flower learned it was okay to keep something for himself. The flower wanted the bird; the bird wanted the flower. They saw the other's weakness and strength. They journeyed through the harsh storms and the wonderment of blooming flowers and trees in spring, the chill and the beauty of the changing leaves of fall, the utter cold and glistening snow in winter, and the unbearable heat and everlasting sunshine of summer. They stuck together through it all. During the seasons, they saw each other broken and spirited. They loved each other dearly. When they mated in the spring, it was a moment they always wanted a taste of. So, Abbie, are you Ichabod's bird?"

Abbie blushed as well, glanced away. "I enjoyed your story, but it isn't like that with me and Crane."

"She speaks the truth, Betsy. The Leftenant and I are dear friends. Nothing more."

"That may be so, Abbie, but eventually, the flower and the bird fell for each other's charm. They became inseparable and wildly in love." She turned her back on them to find a way out.


	44. Rejuvenated

Happy Sunday. :)

* * *

Naked, they lay tied together, full of the other's throb. They nested in it. It was a balm they needed. As Crane's thumb traced the length of Abbie's eyelashes, his bones ached a little less. Abbie's wounds weren't as soar when she trailed the scar on his chest with her finger. Both felt their spirits flap their wings, ready for flight into the next battle.

He kissed her lips.

"We are rejuvenated," he said.

She kissed his forehead. "We are."


	45. Wind

Fix-it Fic because that whole season finale was SH#T. All of this fic I wrote for this fandom was pure hope and now it's ruined. I'm still hurt about this. I will forever and always be hurt about this. I'm not writing anymore fic for this show after I finish Married at First Sight and Brownies. I'll write for Ichabbie if I get requests, but other than that, I won't be writing for Ichabbie anymore. It saddens me to. All of this fic was my hope for them and giving you hope. But after this episode, there isn't any hope left. It's completely gone. Writing for Ichabbie won't be the same without Abbie. I love you guys so, so much and appreciate every last one your reviews, favorites, follows, and kudos. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I do not take you for granted.

* * *

"My, my," Abbie said as Crane kissed her hand and put it to his check. "Be still my beating heart."

Crane grabbed her other hand, tugged her toward him. His forehead touched hers.

"You're trying to give me a heart attack, Crane?" She smiled at him, liked the feeling of his breathe on her face. This was their last moment.

He chuckled. "You will forever remain witty, won't you, Leftenant?"

"Damn right." Her nose fell into his coat lapel. He smelled like wood and smoke and the pages of a book and somehow doughnuts, like her Crane, her man. She touched his chest through his shirt. Her palm rested on his scar that forced them together. "Don't forget us, Ichabod."

He took her breathe when she saw him cry. She removed her hand to wipe his face. He kept her palm near his lips, kissed it. Her throat hurt; she couldn't speak. Her face was hot while her eyes burned. She cried with him. Her other hand rested on his cheek. On tiptoes, she kissed him, let a soft something and took it away. His lips were salty and wet. He brought his lips to hers again. He kissed her like he wanted: tongue against tongue, not too fast, not too slow, breathed her in. She moaned and sighed into his lips. His fingers slide under her shirt for her skin. He'd never experience her again. His fingers slipped down her waist to her hips to grip the back of her thighs. She wrapped her arms around his neck. He picked her up, walked them to the porch banister. He sat her down; her legs tied around his waist. She let her fingers wonder in his beard; his hair, down his neck. She tasted her own salt and wetness. They didn't have to say what they already knew. He kissed her neck and left his head in its crook.

"You are my heart, Grace Abigail Mills. I miss you already."

She buried her face in his shoulder, wanted to keep him here. "I love you, too, Ichabod Crane."

He helped her off the banister and walked them in the middle of the porch.

"You and Jenny look after each other, okay?" she said.

"You have my word." He kissed her lips again. "Be free, Grace."

She didn't want to leave him. He didn't want to leave her. They couldn't change it now though. They held hands and stared at each other.

"Our work is not done."

"Indeed not."

"Be happy, alright?"

He couldn't be happy without her. It was her wish for him, so he'd try. He nodded.

They tried to stall time. Why wasn't it ever enough? Neither of them said anything. She attempted to take her hands away; he wouldn't let her.

"Crane."

"No."

The tears came again. "Ichabod."

He kissed each of her palms. "I shall remember us." He released her hands.

She played with his beard. "Eat lots of doughnut holes, wiggle those fingers, rant as much as you want. Live, Crane. I mean it."

She knew he'd be out of it for a while, but he had work to do. She wouldn't let him wallow for her. He nodded again.

"I'll watch over you," she said.

"When the wind blows, I shall know it is your spirit that fills and strengthens me. You'll be the rain on the grass, the thunder striking a tree, the sun between the clouds, the stars around the moon. It will be you."

She kissed his cheek. His declarations were always so moving. She'll miss that about him. "Yeah."

He put some space between them, bowed for her with closed eyes. When he opened his eyes, she was gone.

* * *

Crane stood in front of her grave. He brought her flowers every week. He sat them down on her tombstone. The wind blew. He looked at the sky, closed and opened his eyes as he smiled.

"Hello, Leftenant."


	46. Dance (AU)

Because we all need some happy right now. Let's pretend that season finale didn't happen. This will be an AU because yeah…that didn't happen. Something to take your mind off of it. Not my song of course. It's "Something He Feel" by whichever version you like best. There are a few. :) I like them all.

* * *

He liked to dance with her in the kitchen or the living room, the dusty attic, the pantry, or the bathroom or the laundry room. Abbie never knew why they did that. It was just their thing in quiet moments when they weren't scrambling to get to work on time because they didn't set their alarms or entertaining guests with dinner parties and game nights or visiting each of their parents. Not to mention they spent time with Abbie's sister Jenny and brother-in-law Joe. They were always quite busy, so it was always nice when it was quiet and just them.

They stood in the laundry room today and folded clothes until he put his shirt down and took her hands. She lay her head on his chest while he wrapped his arms around her. She held him, too. He danced them around with her always on his feet. She'd sing everytime. It'd always be an old love song.

She hummed "Something He Can Feel," one of his favorites. She'd hum a verse, then sing a chorus, and then switch. He liked all the songs she sang and would add them to his playlist to enjoy while on break at work or on the way to it.

She smirked at him, pushed him against the dryer, and played with the draw string on his sweat pants.

"'I like the way we carry on.'"

This is why this song was his favorite. It always ended up with them making love to each other in different places of their home.

She stuck her hand in his pants, in his boxers, grabbed him. He squeezed her butt through her shorts, kissed her bare shoulder when he moved her tank top strap.

"His loving, it sends me on and on/And my man.'"

She stroked him; he moaned into her neck that he kissed.

"'People out there can understand/I'm giving him something he can feel.'"

He looked at her. She kissed his lips while she continued to pleasure him. She, indeed, always gave him something he could feel.

"'To let him know this love is real.'"

He gave her the same when he slid his fingers between her thighs to the spot that made her knees shake.


	47. Wooden Table

I told you I'd make it up to you if you read my last Ichabbie post and wasn't satisfied with the ending. I'm not going to finish that one. It's complete. But here is this. Better? :)

* * *

"Earth Day? Can you believe it? Why is there a particular day to celebrate and clean the Earth? We, as humans, should take great care of the land we so freely exploit for cutting down trees and creating sky scrappers. We should care for God's green Earth everyday. It shouldn't be specified for one day of the year. Quite frankly,..."

The wooden table distracts Abbie. She can't listen to Crane right now but hands him her plate, wine glass, blows out the candles, and gathers the dishes in the center of the wooden table. Her eyes focus on her pianoing fingertips. The table is smooth. Crane wipes it down with a cloth. It glistens; he rants, leaves, returns still ranting, and pushes up his chair. He begins to collect the candles.

"We should do something about this. It's quite ridiculous. Perhaps we could..."

Abbie wanted to do something that started with an "F" and wanted to do it to Crane. Right now. On the wooden table.

Is it sturdy enough to hold their weight? Will it creak as Abbie straddles him and drives them both to an orgasm? Will her sweaty and warm skin stick to the table as Crane sinks his tongue into her "cup" as he sometimes calls her vagina? Will their knees and her hands leave an imprint as he delves himself into her from behind? She doesn't know. Her finger traces the wood pattern. She'll find out.

"Leftenant, are you alright? Your mind seems to be else where," he says, with the candles in his hand.

She stares at him. "Put those down."

He squirms. "But why?"

"Get on the table." She stands.

"I don't understand-"

"The table. And lie down."

He sits the candles in a chair, removes his boots and coat. He follows her orders. Abbie gets on the table next, climbs on top of him. She kisses him, unbottons his shirt.

"Let's try an experiment," she says.

* * *

They are naked and panting on the table. Abbie's head is on Crane's chest. His arms are around her. She traces the wood pattern again. It was quite sturdy after all.


	48. Strength AU

This idea gave me feels. This could have been perfect for any ichabbie moment or something like this could've been in the finale, but you know… anyway, this is an AU.

* * *

Abbie sighed, sipped her tea. She's been reviewing this case all night. Taking her work home was not how she planned on spending her weekend. She still hadn't made the connection between the killer and her victims. Sometimes working in the FBI sucked, but it was rewarding at the end of a big case. It wasn't that way now. Abbe flipped through another case file, shook her head. How was she going to do this?

Crane watched her from the living room. He played a game of chess by himself and occasionally picked up a book. He knew Abbie was stressed out. She'd need a small break, some encouragement. Crane stood and walked in the kitchen. He smiled at her as she glanced up at him. He stuck out his hands. Abbie took them. He tugged her up, held her close. He kissed her forehead, spoke against it.

"Do not grow faint, my heart." He kissed her forehead again.

Abbie sighed and shut her eyes, played with the lapels on his coat. She loved that he knew just what she needed when she needed it. She lifted her head. Her fingers played with his beard while she stood on her tip toes to kiss his lips. Their tongues drank from the other. She pulled away.

"Thank you," she said.

He nodded and watched her sit back at the table with enough strength to finish her work for the night.


	49. Pineapples

A round robin on Tumblr that I really like writing and wanted to post here. Posted a while ago, but feel free to continue. :)

* * *

Abbie walked into her home. She just got off work and was more than happy about it. They didn't catch the killer, they found another dead body, and she was worried about her sister, who wasn't answering any of her calls and texts since they buried Joe. Jenny wouldn't even open the door for her when she visited. Needless to say, she had a bad day. All she wanted to do was eat, take a bubble bath, and sleep. There would be no chess match with Crane, no binge watching Netflix, no romantic dinners. Not tonight. She needed her space.

She removed her badge and gun, took off her blazer and shoes, hung up her purse. She didn't get halfway into the kitchen when she saw him. Her mouth slightly opened and her eyebrows raised.  
He sat on the counter. Naked. With only a bowl of pineapples and whipped cream to hide his-

"What are you doing?" She laughed and shook her head with crossed arms.

"This is your surprise, Leftenant."

"I can't with you sometimes."

She wasn't expecting this. Here she was trying to steer clear of him, and he did this.

He put the bowl aside, held out his hands. "Come here."

She bit her lip as took them and stood between his legs.

"How was work?" He kissed her forehead.

Groaning, she shook her head.

"You don't want to talk about it, I see."

"Later."

"Ah." He grabbed the bowl and took a pineapple out with whipped cream on top. "Perhaps you can enjoy your favorite snack."

Her lips feel around his thumb and index fingers. She slipped her tongue around the pineapple chunk, took it with her teeth. Chewed. The tangy, sweet juice slurred across her tongue as the whipped cream began to dissolve. She swallowed, sucked on Crane's fingers when she finished. He fed her more. He watched her close her eyes and sigh and slightly tilt her head back while she ate. She emptied the bowl and was full by that time.

"I didn't share any with you. I'm sorry."

She normally offered him a few with her own fingers or fork.

His thumb wiped the corner of her lip. "Think nothing of it."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"Are there anymore in the fridge?"

"Yes." He took her waist.

"Want me to go get them?"

His forehead touched hers. "No. I'll get my fill, Leftenant. I assure you."

Before she could ask how, he kissed her lips, stuck his tongue in her mouth. He moaned as he savored the pineapple and cream. His lips left hers.

"Give me your stress and burdens, Leftenant." He prepared to get off the counter. She put some space between them so he could. "Take all you want from me. Eat."


	50. Pillow Talk AU

Yes, it's inspired by Zayn Malik's song "Pillow Talk." Not my song, of course. This is the closest thing I can get to a fanvid since idk how to make one. Lol enjoy. Thank you to all my readers. :) Feel free to listen to the song. Explicit because of sex and language.

* * *

After dinner, Abbie and Crane went into the living room for a game of chess on the floor. They stole kings and queens as they talked.

"How is Mr. Daniel Reynolds?" Crane said.

"How is Sheryl?" she said.

Danny was Abbie's co-worker in the FBI, who Crane didn't like but respected because he was important to Abbie. Crane tried not to roll his eyes or shake his head or let his fingers wiggle each time Danny made her laugh. He's demanding and seems to always like to be in charge. Full of himself.

Sheryl was Crane's co-worker at an elementary school he worked at. Abbie didn't like her very much. She played nice she met her, Sheryl always shared some kind of inside joke with Crane that didn't include her. She'd fix her clothing or squirm and laugh with them to pretend it didn't bother her.

Sometimes Abbie and Crane had them over for dinner parties or would sit together at banquets. Other instances, they'd run into their co-workers in an attempt to surprise the other. Those instances weren't very pleasant. That's when slick words and fake smiles exchanged.

Sheryl made a flirty compliment about Crane; Abbie responded with a yeah-I-know-he's-mine-so-back-off type of comment. She'd smile, tell Sheryl to have a good day, and walk off. If Sheryl was ever in front of them, Abbie kissed Crane, played with the labels on his coat like he liked. Shamelessly flirt.

On the other hand, Danny outright suggested that if Abbie wasn't with Crane, then he'd definitely take a chance with her. Crane lifted his nose, got high and mighty. He also said something like, "Yes, well, she isn't yours. Now, if you will excuse me, I have to surprise my wife with a lunch date and make love to her on her desk." Crane left Danny standing there, watching as he walked to Abbie to kiss her lips and whisper in her ear to make her blush.

"She is rather well. How is Mr. Reynolds?"

"The same." Abbie moved a chess piece.

They both knew they didn't care about the other's co-worker. They went in circles every time. Just being polite. Then they'd stop there. Move on to another subject.

"Do you find him attractive, Leftenant?"

She put her piece down. This was new territory. They never talked about their co-workers like this to the other. Whatever they felt toward their co-worker, they kept it to themselves. She squirmed.

"I'd be lying if I said he wasn't. What about Sheryl?"

"She is pretty, I'll admit."

Sheryl had great legs while Danny had a nice build.

"What's your favorite quality about him?"

She couldn't play anymore. "Why does this matter, Crane?"

Their co-workers have nothing to do with their relationship.

"The way he looks at you, Leftenant, is quite noticeable to me. You entertain him sometimes."

She may have flirted back when she bit her lip or touched his tie. It was harmless though. Why is she being put on the spot? It's not like Crane didn't have his ways with Sheryl either.

"You give her that little smirk or you say some kind of line that makes her wet herself. I'm not the only one."

"I can attest to that. However, you didn't answer my previous question."

She sighed. "Can we play the game?"

She couldn't answer Crane because a little spark was between her and Danny. Abbie never acted on it though. She couldn't do that to Crane.

"What is the quality, Leftenant?"

She pushed her hair over her shoulder. How does she say this without making him angry or hurt?

"He's a challenge. He pushes me. We bump heads with our ideas and ways of doing things, but that's where we compromise, that's where we work. Happy?"

Crane twirled a piece in his fingers. He didn't like the fact that Mr. Reynolds was able to challenge Abbie and help her reach new heights he couldn't. That was his job, not Mr. Reynolds'.

"Hm…"

"What's the supposed to mean? And I'm sure there is one thing you find alluring in Sheryl."

If he had something to say, he should have just said it.

Abbie was right about Sheryl. They had things in common he and Abbie didn't.

"She cares about what I care about, like my collection of historical stamps," he said.

Abbie moves a chess piece. She doesn't like that Sheryl has seen his stamps. He only shared that with her.

"Is that why you like her?"

"Is it my turn?" He reached for his favorite chess piece; she grabbed it before he could get it. He stared at her with wide eyes.

"You didn't answer my question." She stood. "You're not getting this back until I know."

He stood in front of her. "Hand that back."

She put it behind her back. Crane chuckled.

"I could simply wrest it from you, Leftenant."

"You won't."

He shook his head. "No, I won't."

"Hm.."

"I see the tables have turned," he said.

"Damn straight. Why do you like that about her?"

Crane wanted to tell her; he knew it would lead to an argument though.

"What is it?"

Why does it matter to her so much? It shouldn't, but it does. The idea that Crane could get something from another woman that he wasn't getting from her just made her skin inflate. She held the piece tighter. It was maddening.

He shook his head. "I do not know."

"Bullshit, Crane. What is—"

"It is because I think you do not care about my interests."

She made him go there. He couldn't take it back now.

The truth hurt. She held out his piece for him to take. He shook his head again.

"You can have it back," she said.

She didn't want to talk to him anymore. As he glanced at her, she stared over his shoulder, too hurt and upset to face him. He was right. She didn't care about his stamps, even though they were important to him. His passion was history. She couldn't understand that passion, so he found someone who did. Someone who wasn't her.

"You can keep it, Leftenant."

He wouldn't even try to take it from her.

She scoffed. "Of course, I can. You don't challenge me."

He stepped closer to her. "Like him?"

She got something from another man she didn't get from him. He lacked as well. That angered and hurt him, too.

"Yeah, like him."

"Why don't you go fuck him instead?"

He couldn't take this back either, especially when she dropped the chess piece and slapped him. They've argued before, but she's never slapped him. He was out of line. She inhaled, blinked fast to still her vibrating body. He's never spoken to her with such an earthiness. Yet she bit her lip, tilted her head back a little.

With his breath crooked, he came undone with her expression. That look just didn't mean flirtatiousness; it was also arousal. He yanked her toward him and kissed her. She pushed him away. How could she after what he said? She went back to him though.

They pulled clothes off. Kissed and nipped necks, shoulders, the side of hips, chests. Finally naked, she hopped on him. They kissed with a severity. Tongues banged. Fingers gripped hair. He put her against the wall and dug his penis into her a little less gently than he normally would have. She moaned and let him hold her hands together above her head. Their fingers tightened around the others. He pushed further into her. "I'm sorry," "You're mine," and "Mad at you," dropped from their lips with every hard kiss and stroke.

Crane didn't let them come. He released Abbie's hands and walked her to the front of the sofa. She got off him. He turned her around, squeezed her breasts, and kissed her neck. He pinched her butt. A groan from her. He kissed his way down her spine. Nibbled her butt cheeks. She rested on her knees, with her spread on the sofa pillows. His hands entwined with hers. He wedged his penis between her butt cheeks. She hissed and whimpered as he slowly sunk himself into her from behind. He rubbed down her back to soothe her. She kind of enjoyed the pain. Only because she knew it'd turn into something pleasurable later. When he was completely in her, he grunted as he moved and let his fingers dig into her vagina. Her legs separated. He was hunched over her, nipping her earlobe. She was about to lose her mind. They'd never had sex this great before.

"Fuck me harder," she said.

She pushed against him, firm and stuck his fingers further into her. All kinds of sounds escaped their mouths. She squeezed him with her butt cheeks; it hurt him a little, but he didn't mind. Plenty of pleasure came with it. Their climax overloaded them. They used the other's the tempo of the other's throb to ground them back to reality while they caught their breath.

* * *

Once he carefully removed himself from her, he grabbed a pillow for the both of them to share. They lay on the carpet with a blanket covering them. They were face to face, breathing steady. She touched his cheek.

"I'm sorry."

"No." He kissed her palm. "Don't apologize, my heart. I am the one who provoked you with such vulgar language."

"No, Crane. I shouldn't have done that in the first place. It wasn't right."

"We know how to push the other's buttons." He chuckled.

"Buttons we shouldn't press."

He kissed her hand again. "Indeed not."

"The last thing I want is for you to think I don't care about your hobbies, Crane. I do. I want to. Just because some things may not capture my attention like yours doesn't mean that I shouldn't take the time to learn about it. If it's important to you, it's important to me. If you care, I care. I'm sorry if you felt like you had to go looking elsewhere for that."

He kissed her forehead. "I do accept your apology. I am sorry as well. I should rise to the occasion more. I should be able to challenge you when it's needed. I can't be spineless and weak. You don't deserve a spineless and weak man. I, too, am sorry you had to find that elsewhere."

"I accept." She kissed his chin. "It's about both of us. We need checks and balances in our relationship if one of us isn't being fair. It's okay to tell me if I'm wrong, Crane. I tell you all the time. You don't have to be afraid to do that because occasionally, I am. That's how I learn. And you aren't weak. You're just passive. It doesn't make you a weak man."

"No?"

"No."

He smiled at her. "You know you can also tell me if a subject bores you. Sometimes you sit there, and I know you aren't listening to me half the time. I'll be quiet about it."

"I would never want you to stop speaking about what matters to you. I'll try to engage more and ask you questions. I won't look so blank."

He nodded. "What are we going to do about Sheryl and Mr. Reynolds?"

"Let's not mention them ever again. We'll have to set some boundaries with them when we go back to work. They've come between us. Although, I will admit, we did have pretty good sex. You hit places I wasn't even expecting. I mean, damn Crane." She laughed.

"Well, you're the one that encouraged it, need I remind you."

"I did."

"And Leftenant, if want good sex, all you have to do is ask."

"Believe me, I will."

They got more comfortable under the blanket and had more pillow talk about stamps and challenges.


	51. Work

Inspired by Fifth Harmony's "Work." Love that song. :)

* * *

Crane took his keys out his and unlocked the door. A kid threw up on his favorite pair of boots. He forgot to order the food for the Historical Society's annual dinner. Steve, his boss, misplaced his feather ink quill Abbie bought him for his birthday. He also locked himself out of his office and couldn't reach his phone for a few hours in case Abbie called him. Needless to say, he was finally relieved to be home.

When he opened the door, he paused in the doorway. All he could speak with was a wide mouth and an erection. Abbie sat on the stairs, cross legged, in his favorite blue lace lingerie set. It was the one that was see through. She wore a side pony tail and smirked.

"You're on the night shift, Captain."

He grabbed his keys from the door without looking and threw them somewhere. He shut the door behind him.

"Is that so, Leftenant?" He positioned himself on the stairs, specifically between her legs, which she wrapped around his waist.

She kissed him. "Mmhmm."

"When do I get off said night shift?" His lips found her neck.

Her hands skimmed through his hair. "Let's just say I'm putting you to work tonight."

He didn't care if he didn't eat dinner. He was just glad today was Friday. No waking up early for him. The weekend was theirs.

"I'll be happy to be under your employment."

She kissed his lips again. "Let's work from our bed then."

Crane enjoyed working for the museum, but he loved working for Abbie more. She was an amazing boss, ordering him to do things he never thought possible, yet that thoroughly pleased them both. He'd work for her as long as he could.


	52. Cappuccino

Because we need more donut and cappuccino fics, and theheadandthekin made me do it. Lol Thank you for that little treat. Giving it back to you. :) Not an AU, but the season finale doesn't exist in this fic either.

* * *

"Dance with me, Crane," Abbie said.

She finished the last of her cappuccino and pushed her cup back. Crane must've laced it with something, or she really missed caffeine. Either way, she felt too good, plucky. She didn't know if they'd have another quiet moment like this also, so she'd make the most of it. He stuffed the rest of his donut in his mouth and wiped his hands on his trousers before standing up. Once in front of him, she took his hands. One footstep brought them chest to chest. His coat was comfortable to rest on. No wonder he kept it on all the time. His hands curved around her waist; hers on his arms. He danced them across the kitchen.

"I really needed that, Crane. Thank you."

She said she wouldn't drink coffee after the Catacombs, but when Crane presented her with that cup of sweetness, she couldn't resist anymore. He pampered her—crafted her dishes she's never heard of, washed and folded her clothes, left her little notes of encouragement. At one point she had to draw the line after he ran her a lily-filled bath. She appreciated everything he did, of course. It reminded her of her previous life and that she could get back to normalcy. Whether it was through her favorite foods, clean clothes, or relaxation, Crane tried to remind her of herself in bits and pieces. She was very grateful for that.

He smiled in her hair. "It was my pleasure, Leftenant. My donut was quite a treat. Thank you."

She touched his cheek. "You know you're welcome."

He grabbed her hand. "I hope I didn't overstep by going against your wishes. You've told me you did not wish to be spoiled. It is just your happiness is of the upmost—"

"I'm not mad at you, Crane. I never was. I hope you didn't think that."

Rejecting him wasn't to hurt him or punish him. She wouldn't indulge in his five-star treatment because she'd never be herself again after that experience. She couldn't enjoy some of the stuff she once did. Not only that, his behavior also had a lot to do with it. His eyes loitered on her a little longer than they should have. His voice was a little quieter. He stepped a little closer to her. He changed since her return. It startled her. All of his actions said what she was afraid of. Her feelings had grown stronger for him since she's been back, yet she wasn't ready to face them. She had to sort out her trauma first. Plus, she didn't want to give herself away if both or one of them wouldn't make it in this war. It was easier to not say anything. He's the one that seemed prepared, as if he waited for her.

"Why did you accept my hospitality this time?"

They stopped dancing. Her bones buzzed; a hum flitted through her chest. Calm covered her. There was no fear. She kissed him. It was a peck long enough to get her point across. His donut and her cappuccino went well together from what she tell.

"I know how you feel about me, Crane."

His eyebrows fell down to his eyes; his mouth hung. "How?"

"The cappuccino, the cooking, all of it was the giveaway. And you don't have the best poker face." She giggled.

He smiled and shook his head. "Here I was thinking I wouldn't be discovered. Are you sure it doesn't bother you?"

She kissed him again and led him upstairs.

* * *

They undressed each other, kissed pieces of exposed skin. Yeah, they had to save the world, but the world could wait. She lay on the bed. Naked. Legs spread. He kissed her knees, inside her thighs. Abbie couldn't believe her and Crane were doing this, although she was more than happy they were. They could use the intimacy. She wasn't nervous with him. Clearly, he wasn't either.

A moan tumbled from her lips. His tongue flicked; his lips sucked her clit. She didn't know what to do with her hands, so she clenched her comforter the same time she bent her back up. He stopped before she came in his mouth and kissed his way up her stomach. His mouth packed itself with her breasts, her collarbone, and her lips.

"That cappuccino was marvelous. However, it pales in comparison to your taste."

She wrapped her legs around his waist, tugged him down to kiss her again. He was right; she was better than the cappuccino. As she stroked his penis, she watched him try to regain his composure.

"Abbie," he said.

She stopped and let him drift into her. He took his time filling her. It was okay for him to do so. They may not make it out of this fight with The Hidden One, which meant making the most of this. She wouldn't speak to him about dying and remembering their bond. This was the time for peace, like supple touches and spongy words. He made love to her like dial-up Internet: slow. She filched every bit of it. Bit his shoulder for sanity when he hit her G-spot. His moans and whimpers bumped into her neck. She wanted him to increase the pace at that point. None the less, she didn't say anything. This was about them taking their time with each other while they could.

Crane somehow found a deeper stride once he lifted one of her legs over his shoulder. She didn't know she possessed that much flexibility. Her orgasm clogged her throat; she gasped into his mouth. He choked out a grunt when he finally climaxed. She dropped her leg; both of them stilled. She almost thought she heard their throbs. She gave him a chance to catch his breath.

"You know I love you, too, right, Crane?"

He kissed her neck, her lips. "I do, Leftenant. What made you ask me to dance?"

"Your cappuccino made me do it." She laughed.

He tickled her. "I'm sure it did, Leftenant. I'm sure it did."


	53. Lawn Mower

I think I saw someone post that we never got a chance to see Crane mowing Abbie's lawn. Yeah, I know how that sounds. Lol Anyway, here is something. :)

* * *

Abbie bought a lawn mower years ago when she purchased her first house. She never used it. With her wacky schedule as an police officer and currently an FBI agent, she never had the time. On off days, she caught sleep. If the grass grew above her ankles, she hired someone to cut it. Time was really slim when she became a Witness. Late nights in the archives, hunched over tea, fast food, and dusty books, pointed guns at moldy and slimy demons, and disinfected gashes and scrapes with alcohol and smooth words were her nights now. But today was a normal day. An off day from work and Witnessing. She and Crane did normal things: he ranted at the Saturday paper over an English muffin while she poured coffee and lost level 124 in Candy Crush.

Now, in the afternoon, five episodes of Orange Is the New Black later, she sat on the porch, watched Crane mow her lawn. He insisted, so she told him to knock himself out. This was what they did on normal days.

He moved the mower back and forth across her yard, paused to wipe his forehead with the heel of his hand. She waved him to the porch for a bottled water and raisins for a snack. Then she kissed his lips and beard. He played with the ends of her curls, smiled. She patted his chest and walked away with a smile of her own.

It was spring, pretty close to summer. He got warm. The buttons of his shirt opened. He shook his shirt off. When he left it on the porch steps, she peeked from her phone and pretended not to notice his slick chest, abs, and back. She could never get him to update his wardrobe. He liked his shirt and trousers and boots and the military coat he draped over his arm. He was happy, comfortable in his 1700s wear. That was alright with her.

As he mowed the grass, she watched him. Her mind narrowed to their first meeting. Him in a jail cell, lost and overwhelmed. Her outside the jail cell, lost and confused. Both of them needed somewhere to belong. They'd found it that day and onward. She flicked through their sacrifices, their laughs, their losses, their victories, everything else in the cracks. She saw him for what he was: a man, who wanted to make a difference for others, who wanted to be happy. She saw the man she loved.

He pushed the mower in her garage and walked up the steps. After he grabbed his shirt and snacks, they went inside. He put his things on the couch. She threw her cell phone to his small pile.

"What is on your mind, Leftenant?" he said.

She didn't think he noticed her observing him.

She shook her head, glanced away. "Nothing, Crane."

She wanted to know if he thought about her, too, as he mowed the lawn. He pulled her to him and kissed her slow. His tongue dipped in and out of her mouth, tasting and retasting. She didn't mind the sweat and the bits of grass that stuck to his shoulders. She wanted him how he was: sometimes sad and broken for his lost life, at other times grateful and humble to be a Witness in the 21st century, but always delighted and at ease to be with her. He picked her up, carried her up the stairs, and to their room, where he carefully lay her on their bed. He removed his boots and the rest of his clothing, then undressed her. Unhurried. He kissed her favorite spots while he did so: the inside of her left ankle, her inner thigh, her bent knee, the side of her waist, her shoulder. She enfolded her legs around his waist, kissed him. With wide eyes, he flooded into her.

"Abbie. My dear Abbie," he said.

She knew his thoughts were of her, too.


	54. Apple Pie Day

Sorry I haven't written in a while. I promise I hadn't forgotten my fics. Will get to them. Anyway, this is for midoritonbo. Happy birthday. Enjoy your day. Hope you like this fic. Please tell me if you don't. :) A song fic kind of inspired by "Like I'm Gonna Lose You" by Meghan Trainor and John Legend.

* * *

"Why did you pick Sundays, Crane?" Abbie said.

She sat at the kitchen island and watched him cut and skin red apples. It was Apple Pie Day. At first Abbie wasn't too fond of it because it reminded her of Corbin, but she was okay with it now. It made her feel close to him.

"Apple pie is the perfect cheer to the end of the week and to the beginning of a new one, Leftenant." He dropped the chopped apples in a bowl before he sliced some more.

They've had Apple Pie Day for the last seven years, except not on Sundays. When they fought against demons, witches, horsemen, gods, and goddesses during the Apocalypse, he baked it on Taco Wednesday or Wing Tuesday or Spaghetti Friday. She never knew which day of the week it'd be. Now that stability has been their new normal for about a month, she told him to select a specific day to make his homemade pie. The Apocalypse was over; they survived.

"I'm cool with Sundays." She tried to steal an apple from the bowl, but Crane snatched it.

"These are for the pie, Leftenant. I see you've taken a liking to sneaking apples, too. Aren't French fries enough?"

She smiled. "On to bigger and better things."

He shook his head and stuck the bowl out for her to grab a few pieces. She never watched him make apple pie before, let alone helped him make it. Either she napped until the nutmeg and sugared crust woke her up or she researched more about the Apocalypse until the timer dinged.

It was different, since the war ended. Battles and research didn't shorten their days; time became their companion again. It shadowed them in all places: on the porch, where they drank rum until their heads looped to the side; in the living room, where they combatted in hushed chess games while they ate Mongolian chicken and fried rice; in their bedroom, where they treasured new spots to kiss and squeeze as they made love.

Time tracked them at work, too. They had full eight-hour days and sometimes worked past dinner. Abbie was a more focused FBI agent; Crane was a history tour guide and curator at the Historical Society. All of it was nice.

She didn't know the process of Crane's pie. He did the usual stuff: coated his apples in cinnamon, sugar, and nutmeg, prepared his dough, and created the filling. It was his little ticks she watched for. He bit his bottom lip when he sprinkled his apples, sung low in Spanish when he molded his dough into the pan, and poked his pinky out and sunk his eyebrows when he covered the top of his pie with crust. She missed a lot.

"Are you staring at something, Leftenant?" he said, after his dessert was in the oven.

"I like watching you make pie."

"Why so?" He switched on the faucet and gathered all of his dirty dishes.

She walked to the sink. "It's nice."

"Is that all?" he said, once he got everything. He washed while she dried.

"Don't you notice things more? Things you didn't see during the war? The days and what we do during them seem so long."

He nodded. "Quite. For instance, you crunch ice when you're nervous about something at work. You like to whistle when it's raining, and you only eat toast when you're tired and don't have much energy."

It was her turn to nod. "There's so much time now. What do we really do with it all?"

"We enjoy as much of it as we can. Do you believe that we have thus far?"

"We have." She paused. "I'm still scared though."

He turned off the water and dried his hands. She leaned into him when his arms curved around her waist. The chopping board she was in the middle of drying would have to wait. Their hands entwined. He kissed her neck.

"It's alright, Leftenant."

Sometimes Abbie woke up in the middle of the night, almost crying. They'd fall asleep whispering or tracing each other's scars or making love. With a slight open mouth and a small snore, his right leg stuck out from the comforter. It nearly hung over the bed. She watched him kick off the covers as he half-slept and listened to his mini rants about technology and modern society. When he stilled and all that tucked into the corners of her ears was his breathing, she wiped her face, kissed the scar on his chest, and went back to sleep. He was at ease; he was with her.

They've suffered from post-traumatic stress during the Apocalypse. It was expected, but she didn't think it'd bother her once it was over. She wanted to believe it was completely out of her system. Yet, things like that couldn't be shaken off. They stayed.

"We aren't immune from dying, but what if there's another one? What if we really do lose each other the second time around?"

She doesn't think there'll be Apocalypse #2. However, God does work in mysterious ways. They could be called again.

"Then we shall love and live through and through, Abbie. Apocalypse or not."

She faced him. He was scared, too. Only he didn't express it. They seemed opposites now. She told him everything while he kept to himself. It didn't matter though. She could tell. He squeezed her hand a little longer, held her a little tighter. Crane kissed her at the oddest moments—during a TV show, at the mailbox, in the laundry room. Sometimes she'd catch him just staring at her. He was most frightened when it was completely quiet in the house, and she wasn't near him. She'd normally be outback under a tree or in her study when she heard him call her name like he couldn't find her. She always told him where she was. He'd be out of breath by the time she rushed to him.

"You okay?" she'd say.

He'd hug her to him. "Abbie. My Abbie. Grace."

Then she'd find herself out of his arms. An apology burbled from his lips. After that, he'd walk away. She never asked him why he behaved like that. It was clear.

"You're right," she said.

He kissed her lips. "I could teach you, you know?"

"You know I don't bake. I barely cook dinner." She went back to finish drying the dishes.

"We have a small bit of time." He turned on the water.

Maybe it could be fun. She wouldn't mind him being behind her, telling her what to do and how to do it. She'd "accidentally" bump her butt into him, causing the start of an erection. He'd say something about pie being serious business and ask her to behave. Of course, she wouldn't. She'll agree to it because she'll enjoy just being with him, having him close.

She smiled at him. "Loving and living, right?"

"Indeed," he said.

She was excited about the next Apple Pie Day. If they never made it to that, then she'd clasp the small bit of time she had with him now.


	55. Rules

Haven't updated this fic in a while, but here is something. :) Inspired by Rihanna's "Love On the Brain."

* * *

"What, Crane?" Abbie said.

He stood in her doorway with a tilted head.

"Did you fuck him? Mr. Reynolds?"

Rum made him an honest man, one who didn't bite his tongue for his own sake.

"I don't owe you a damn thing, Ichabod."

They were over. Broken up for a week now, but on and off in the past six months since they started their relationship. They could never get their shit together.

"Did you show him your trick?"

"So what if I did? It's not your fucking business. Leave."

He smirked. "That was only intended for me, you know?"

"Everything I do isn't for you, Crane."

"Why do you insist upon keeping me at a distance? You only show me what you want me to see. I'm not pleased with just your bits and pieces."

"You are not entitled to me, Ichabod."

"No, I am not." He sighed, kissed her palms. "I am sorry I caused you to feel that way. Can I come in, love?" His lips skimmed her wrists. Then he sucked her neck.

This was what they did. They stood outside each other's door, apologizing and seducing, until they argued again and dragged their feet to the same spot for sorry speeches.

She kissed his lips, tugged him inside by his shirt, and into her bedroom, where she fucked him until he couldn't breathe. And she did her trick, a crazy ass yoga pose that gratified them both and made them loose balance.

* * *

They caught their breathe.

"Ready for Round 2?" she said.

He chuckled as he leaned against the headboard. "We aren't done?"

She giggled. "Not even close."

He kissed her forehead. "You, my dear, are intoxicating. But would you mind if we rested for a moment?"

"No."

He tried to cuddle, but she wasn't with that shit. There had to be at least four inches of space between them. The most he could do was hold her hand. That was her rule. One of them. That's one of the reasons why they fought every week or so. She wasn't comfortable with that type of intimacy.

"I would like to ask you a question, Abbie."

"I didn't sleep with Danny. I only said that as dig. Sorry."

There have been moments when she was tempted to have a one-night stand with him. He was her ex. They had a fling in the FBI academy, but they called it quits when he became her fucking boss. She wasn't that type of woman. He offered more than once since they started working together professionally. Each time, she refused. It just wasn't appropriate, though it would've been easy to do. They fucked first and hardly asked questions later at the academy. Abbie didn't want any emotional attachments. Danny wanted them to be more and was disappointed when she didn't return his feelings. He respected what she wanted though, even now.

Crane didn't understand that. He didn't get the no-emotional-attachment thing and wanted to know about her family, friends, job, and every insignificant detail about her. One day, he asked her if she had a favorite pair of socks. Damned _socks._ Who the fuck asked that?

She often hurt his feelings, told him not to ask dumb ass questions. That was when he decided to get all pissy with her, told her he'd like to know and that he wasn't leaving until she gave him an answer. After all, they did fuck for two hours. The least she could do was tell him a couple of facts about herself. He didn't hide anything from her. That was the part where she kicked him out of her apartment, and they didn't speak for days.

"I am relieved about that. However, that wasn't what I wanted to ask."

"You know rule two."

He could ask about her hobbies, her job, fucking socks if he wanted. Her parents and emotions were off the table. That was the rule two.

"There is nothing more ridiculous than these rules. How are you benefitting from them?"

"You think you're such a smartass, don't you?"

"Indeed. It is not a personal inquiry."

"But it leads to revealing personal information."

"You have to answer, Abbie. That's also a part of your rule."

She sighed. "They protect me, alright?"

"From?"

"Break is over." She straddled him, kissed his lips.

"I will find out one way or the other."

She gripped him. He moaned. "If you aren't tongue tied first."

"I—" He groaned into her neck. "Damn."

"Thought so."

* * *

"I love you," Crane said in her hair.

"You say this literally right before orgasm?" She got off him, not even bothering to climax anymore.

"What do you have against it? It wasn't a personal—"

"I know." She sighed. "You aren't the type to let it be, are you?"

He just insisted on making it harder and harder for her, didn't he? He never just went with things. Never. It was frustrating.

"Not in regards to you."

"Do you really? Love me?"

He kissed her cheek. "Yes. I'm not expecting to hear the words in return."

"You're not just saying this because the sex is good?"

He stared right at her. "No."

She didn't know what to say, how to even discuss this topic. The last people who said they loved her were her parents. Love wasn't selfish; love wasn't abandonment. Her mama killed herself and her dad left her and her sister. They ended up in foster care with abusive, shitty foster parents. But then they met Corbin and he was more like a father figure to them. He trained Abbie to become a lieutenant for the Sleepy Hollow Sheriff's Department before she went to the FBI. He's retired now. She still has pie with him on Sundays for apple pie and ice cream. He showed her an idea of what love was supposed to be. Still, she couldn't fully let anybody in. Not even him. Barely her sister.

"It's nice of you to say that."

"You don't believe me."

"I didn't say that. You're putting words in my mouth."

"Do you believe me?"

"Crane."

"Do you?"

"No."

"Why can't you open yourself up to me?"

"I opened my legs for you, didn't I?"

"Damn it, Abbie." He shook his head, got out of bed to put on his boxers. "I want more than your body. Why can't you be honest with me? What's so horrifying about confiding in me, about being vulnerable?"

She couldn't take it anymore. Here he was. Again. Pushing, pushing, pushing.

"Shut the fuck up. You don't have the right to know everything about me, Ichabod. It's always why can't I do this or why can't I do that. You're never satisfied. Stop wanting to know me so much."

"Who broke you?"

The blue crept in again. The grief and sadness for what she lost, the lonely gray feeling from her parents and her treatment while being in the system. She hugged herself, got into bed, and pooled the comforter around her.

"People."

He sat beside her, took her hand. "I'm here."

She looked at him, really looked at him. There was kindness in him, nothing malicious, nothing to hurt her. She breathed, squeezed his hand.

"My parents. My foster parents, too." Of course, she cried. She felt ashamed for it, though she shouldn't. Her crying wasn't weak. Her foster parents made her believe it was, so she toughened up. Tried not to feel until she was completely by herself. This never happened in front of anyone, except her sister. Even that was rare.

"They hurt me. I don't know how to heal from that."

"Abbie, my love. I'm so sorry for whatever it is they did to you. I won't ever know how much that took to say, how much I took from you. "

She wiped her face. "Your greedy ass."

He chuckled.

"It does feel good to acknowledge it, to give it voice, you know?"

"I'm proud of you. I can't heal you myself. All I can do is promise to listen and encourage you. Will you let me?"

She nodded. "I can't tell you it all tonight, not tomorrow, not next week, next month. Sometimes I won't tell you anything. You _have_ to respect that, Crane. That means no further questions until I'm ready to talk about more."

"Understood. I am sorry for pushing so much."

"You got what you wanted?"

"Yes. I understand you a little better. That's all I wanted."

"What about what I wanted? Like privacy. I'm allowed to keep something for me."

"You are. Yet, if it's hindering growth in our relationship, then we have to talk about it at some point. I want nothing more than your privacy. At the same time, I want your honesty about what bothers you. You don't have to hide. You can trust me."

She got that he had good intentions and meant well. Did he go about it wrong or do too much to get there? Absolutely. They'd just have to take it slow for now.

"We'll work on it. Compromise."

"I can agree to that." He kissed her cheek. "And I do love you."

"I'll slowly start to believe it."


	56. Rain

I haven't posted for this fic forever, so here's something. Hope you like it. :)

* * *

Abbie finds herself in an unfamiliar cabin. A fire wallops in its hearth as it rains outside. Pine soaks the living room, where she is, and probably the rest of the house. She stands from the couch to observe her surroundings. No TV. A coffee table in front of her. A table lamp. No stairs. A hallway. Three windows. An open entrance to what she hopes is the kitchen and not a creepy ass lair or dungeon of some sort. A navy coat hangs on a rack and knee-length black boots are by the front door. These don't belong to her, nor to any lovers she knows.

She's had a couple of weird dreams in her life. Some about elephants climbing mountains and others about fish baking cakes. Those weren't real, but this one feels pervasive, like it's nicking her bones to get inside of her. This dream is startling, especially now as she hears running water, clinking dishes, and humming. She's on her guard and holds her breath as she slowly steps in the kitchen. A man washes what she can't see. Her eyes observe the back of him: shoulder-length brown hair, wide shoulders, a nice ass even. He's taller than her. Probably by a good foot.

A pan of brisket smokes on the eye of the stove. He must've just removed it from the oven. A bowl of romaine and spinach salad, a bottle of white wine, and a loaf of wheat bread are assembled on a mini island. She quietly goes further in the kitchen. The man shuts off the water. When he turns around, the plate he holds slips from his hands. He doesn't clean up the broken glass. His eyes scan her from head to toe. He's got a beard that matches the color of his hair. Long fingers. His shirt's slightly unbuttoned. Handsome, she thinks. But she doesn't know him.

"Who are you?" she finally says.

"I could ask you the same question, Miss." He's British and his fingers wiggle.

She refuses to move because she doesn't know what he'll do. Her belly flicks like the fire in the living room.

"Is this your cabin?"

"I'm afraid it does not belong to me. However, I attempted to make myself at home. I prepared supper."

"It smells good." If she's honest, she's kind of hungry, but she won't eat. What if it's a Purgatory? If she eats, she can't leave. Her soul will be trapped here, according to the horror films she's watched.

"Thank you." He smiles a little. "I enjoy cooking."

"What's your name?"

"Ichabod Crane."

"I'm Abbie."

"It is nice to make your acquaintance, Abbie, despite our peculiar circumstances."

Her lips form a thin line as she nods.

"I'm not sure whether I've invaded your dream or whether you've invaded mine. However, we are both here. That being said, would you like to join me for dinner? Forgive me, I was not expecting company at all, but there should be enough for the two of us."

"I'll pass."

"Are you certain you don't—"

"Positive. Excuse me."

She needs air and leaves the kitchen to find some. There's a wrap-around porch with two rocking chairs side by side. She has a nice view of a lake and its dock. All types of questions sway on the tip of her tongue. Was this her dream? Was it his? Why is she here? What the hell is going on? How did this even happen? She watches the rain. The front door opens.

"The rain's quite lovely, isn't it?" he says.

"Quite." She pauses. "But it saddens me now."

He stands beside her and observes the raindrops, too.

"It saddens me as well."

Curiosity gets the better of her; she wants to know his story. Did the rain leave him with memories of blood and loss, too? Her instincts tell her so, and she lightly squeezes his hand. She should pinch herself awake right, but instead she says, "Let's eat dinner."

He gives her another little smile and gently tugs her inside the cabin. Then she wakes. She still feels his warm hand.

* * *

It's night two, and Abbie shares a dream with Crane again. She sets up a chess game on the front porch. There's a small table between the two rocking chairs, one of which she occupies.

"Hello." Crane sits across from her.

"Hi."

"How are you?"

"Fine. You?"

"I'm quite well. Resting as it were."

She chuckles.

"Do you enjoy chess?" he says.

She nods. "It's the only game I play."

"Would you mind if I joined you?"

She slides him his chess pieces. It's raining again.

"Do you think it'll always rain here?" she says.

"Perhaps."

They quietly play; she wins four rounds.

"I'm convinced you can read my mind, Abbie."

She giggles as she clears the board and puts the game in its box. "Or you're not as good as you thought, Crane. Can I call you that, by the way?"

"I have no objections; Crane suites me well. And I'll have you know I'm a rather fine chess player. I was a member of the chess team at university."

"Hooray." Abbie grins and goes inside.

He follows her. "Do you not believe me?"

"I do. You're good, but you can be better." She puts the game on the table with the lamp and makes herself comfortable on the couch.

He sits beside her, with his fingers folded and legs crossed. "What, pray tell, is my weakness?"

"You're too confident. That's how you lost each time. The pieces don't play the way they're positioned on the board. You can't assume what moves I'll make, Crane."

He tries to object, but says otherwise. "I suppose that's true."

"We'll work on it."

"I look forward to being under your tutelage. Would you like a cup of tea?"

"That'd be great. Thank you."

Crane prepares it while Abbie stares at the fire. She doesn't know where this dream world is going, what it'll lead to, but she wants to give it a chance.

He's back with their tea. Both cups are on saucers. He carefully gives one to her before cautiously sitting down with his own.

"How did you become such an expert at chess?"

"My sister Jenny. She learned the game from our parents. She's the only one who could beat me. I still want a rematch."

"Perhaps when you wake, you can agree upon a time and date for said rematch."

Her eyes settle on her tea. There's a sting in her chest. "That won't happen."

"Why, if I may ask?"

"Jenny's… um…" She clears her throat to keep the tears at bay, but it doesn't work. Her tears fall into her cup. She wants her back. "My sister's dead."

Crane sets his tea down on the coffee table in front of them and scoots closer to her. His palm rests on her back. He gently removes her cup from her grip to sit it on the table as well.

She told him how the rain left her with blood and loss. How they should've stayed home, but Jenny wanted to go to the mountains. They're stunning in the rain, she said. Abbie told her no, that they needed to pick a better day when it wasn't raining. Being the younger sister she was, Jenny pouted about it. And being the oldest, Abbie didn't like disappointing her, so she sighed and reluctantly agreed. They packed a cooler and left that morning. Abbie expected a fun roadtrip, old school tunes, and laughter, not a car accident that left two dead and six of them injured. A drunk truck driver swerved out of his lane on the highway. He collided into them and caused a four-car pileup. Abbie woke in a cold hospital room, with beeping machines and pains in her leg, arm, back, everywhere. Jenny wasn't in the bed next to her, so she called for her at the top of her lungs until a nurse came in. Where's my sister? Where is she? I'm so sorry, Miss Mills, but your sister…. She ordered the nurse to leave. Abbie didn't cry until after the funeral a week later.

He grabs her hand while she sinks into her grief. He doesn't say he's sorry like everyone else. She appreciates him for that. Her head drops on his shoulder. He lays them down on the sofa and permits her to cry as long as she needs. Soon she wakes. Her face is hot and her eyes are still wet. She thinks he left a kiss on her cheek.

* * *

It's the third night, and in the doorway of the bedroom, Abbie says, "Thank you."

"You're quite welcome." Crane's staring out the window.

She decides to stare with him. "You okay?"

He doesn't answer, so she holds his hand. He squeezes it.

"Today is my wife's birthday."

"You don't sound happy about it."

"I'm quite sad."

"Why?"

Tears are on his cheeks. "We can't celebrate her birthday together. She, too, died in the same accident as your sister. My wife's name is Katrina. We were visiting her parents for the weekend. I volunteered to drive, due to the weather, since she gets a little frantic about rain. However, she insisted otherwise. She said I drove too slow and that we'd never get there in time. To say the least, she was excited, since they only visit America three times a year. They're from London." He pauses. "We drove into the median because of the truck. The impact killed her instantly. I shouldn't have let her drive, Abbie. She should be here instead of me. I—" Grief overtakes him; he weeps into his hands.

She leads them to the bed, which they both sit on. Her legs straighten, she puts a pillow in her lap, tells him, "Come here."

He does. He cries into the pillow while she combs through his hair with her fingers. She doesn't shhh him or tell him it'll be okay, like people do. That won't do a damn thing. She lets him be. And it's obvious to her why they dream of each other.

* * *

They're in the kitchen on the fifth night. Abbie's making them s'mores, a feel-good snack, one they could use.

"Thank you for last night, Abbie."

"Don't mention it."

She sets their plates on the table.

"Is this a treat you often eat?"

"Yeah. Jenny and I used to make them when we were younger. I figured we needed something a little light-hearted after the last two days."

"Indeed."

Marshmallow sticks to his beard and chocolate stains Abbie's shirt.

"We look a mess," she says once they finish.

Then he laughs loud and full. She can't help but join him. It feels good, but she also feels she shouldn't enjoy it.

Later, they sit on the dock without an umbrella and listen to the rain for a while. It drenches them.

"We're connected by loss," Crane says. "That's what's resulting in these dreams."

"I realized that, too. I knew there were others involved, that there was another loss, but I don't know why it's just us here. Why not anybody else?"

He shrugs. "Maybe we aren't meant to have all the answers, Abbie."

"My sister died that day, Crane. I deserve fucking answers."

The truck driver was arrested, but that still didn't make Abbie feel better. She wanted to know why they got on the highway in the first place. Who let them drive? Does the truck driver feel guilty? Is the person sorry for what they caused? It still nags at her to this day.

"My apologies. I didn't mean to offend—"

"I know. I'm sorry." She pauses. "She was the only family I had left. Our mother died when we were younger. I can't say much about our dad other than he left when we were babies. The only other time I saw him was at Jenny's funeral."

He tangles their fingers. "I wish you didn't have to endure this."

She nods. "We deserve to be happy, you know?"

"The question is how do we do that? Our loved ones have only been gone for nine months. How do we find happiness in the midst of tragedy?"

She shrugs. "I think we just try. We enjoy the small things again, like eating s'mores or playing chess."

"That is a start. However, even while we engaged in these activities, I felt guilty, like I shouldn't have laughed when my wife is dead. Do you experience that?"

"I do, yeah." She sighs. "I think we have to okay with that, to get comfortable with living again. I'm not going to forget my sister and you're not going to forget Katrina. We aren't 'getting over it,' you know? It's normal if we have days where the grief is too much and we cry all day in bed, but we can't do that everyday either. No one grieves the same. I get that. I do think it's good to have a balance. We're just trying to live again, to find substance in life. And that's okay. We don't have to feel guilty about that. I think they'd want us happy, right?"

"I'd like to think so." He stands up and helps her to her feet. "I suppose a bit of fun is in order, yes?"

"Indeed," she says. "Let's start with the lake."

Before he can respond, she jumps in with a squeal.

* * *

They play hide-and-go seek in the rain or play rounds of chess on the porch or on the dock. They gaze into the fire, drinking tea, wine, or coffee while they reminisce about their loved ones. They laugh; they cry, hold hands, and kiss foreheads for comfort. In the kitchen, they attempt to make fancy dinners and desserts they can't pronounce. Once, they broke out in a food fight. They sleep in the bed and twiddle their fingers together as they tell what-if stories about who they think Jenny and Katrina would be right now. Sometimes their lips skim the corner of a mouth, a nose, or a neck for comfort and support. They like it. They want more of it, of life and laughter with each dream they spend together.

* * *

They are supposed to be tree climbing in the rain this dream. Crane's supposed to give her a foot up. He's not a fan of heights, so she decides she'll be the one to see how much branch she can climb. Instead of lifting her, he tickles her waist. She squirms, laughs, tells him to stop. Her attempts at escaping don't work because he pulls her closer to him. Suddenly, he's not tickling her anymore. As they stare at each other, Abbie thinks the rain is tragedy, but she wants to make new memories with it. Happier ones that dull the sting of loss. She deserves that. He deserves that. And so she kisses him while the rain sods their clothes and hair. His tongue knocks against hers and she moans. He licks the raindrops that fall down her neck and into her shirt, which she quickly removes. He snatches his own off. The rain is sweet on his skin. Finally, they are naked, slightly cold against the tree, but neither of them care. His teeth tease and nip her nipples; she holds him there. Then he kisses lower, dips his tongue in her belly button. Her knees weaken as he tongues her clit. One of her legs hangs on his shoulders. Then he lifts her other leg over his shoulder as well.

"Crane…."

He licks, groans, and softly bites. She wants more, so much more with him, for him. They deserve adventure and spontaneity like this. It's theirs to make and it feels more than amazing. She climaxes in his mouth like she wants to. Before she knows it, he's sliding his penis in her. And he's looking at her like he wants her to be the happiest woman in the world, with or without him. And she feels it all: the immense pleasure, their losses, the tip of their healing. She wants that for them. And she kisses that wish into his lips, his cheeks, his eyes lids. They cry because perhaps they've found a little bit of it in themselves and in each other. She orgasms again. He quickly follows, rests his head in her neck. Her fingers play in his wet hair. The rain slows. Then it completely stops. Between the clouds, there's a bit of sunshine.

* * *

Abbie's fully awake right now, though she wishes she was asleep. But all she presently has are her memories of Crane and their lovemaking under the tree while she sits on a park bench with her umbrella over her head. After they sexed, she woke up. She didn't dream about him for a couple of days. It's disappointed her, but she hopes he's somewhere happy. They never exchanged contact information. There was only so much time before one of them had to get up and face reality, unless it was the weekend. They slept a little longer then.

She visits the park because she wants to climb a tree or find one to climb once the sun comes out. None of what's here interests her, so she'll return home. As she stands, she hears a man behind her say, "Leaving so soon, are we?"

She turns and there he is. Crane. He's more so tall and handsome in person. What are the fucking odds they meet here in the rain?

He smiles, says, "I believe we've met a time or two."

She can't help but smile herself and say, "I think we have."

The rain stops.


End file.
